Dragon Age: Fallen King
by beanball
Summary: The 3rd story in the OoA series. After the defeat of the Order,  A mysterious new foe emerges to challenge Alistair's claim as king of Ferelden.  Together, Alistair and The Warden must piece the puzzle together and find out who is behind this new threat.
1. Chapter 1

Part I

"_Morrigan_!" The Warden yelled out from the bedroom of the cottage. He and the witch were expecting very important visitors soon and he was getting himself cleaned up for their arrival. He was standing in front of the small mirror that was placed over the wash basin, holding a razor in his hand, and a thick soapy lather covered half of his face. On his neck he bore a nice gash that bled freely.

The witch soon poked her head into the bedchamber door, "You bellowed?" she asked with her hands on her hips.

"What did I say about using my razor to shave your legs with? Just look at my neck!" he fumed as he pointed out the lovely cut.

"Your anger is misplaced as usual. I did not shave with it." she replied in a calm yet annoyed fashion.

"If you didn't use it, how did it get so jagged and dull?"

"I did not say I had not used it."

"Uh-huh...I'm almost afraid to ask what you _did_ use it for."

"There was a bit of old varnish that needed removing from the bookcase in the den."

The Warden was dumbfounded by what he heard, "So you used my razor?" he asked.

"I did."

"What on earth possessed you to do that?" he fumed as he held the razor out for her to see, "Just look at it! It's ruined!"

"Stop acting like such a child. That bit of varnish could have broken off and been found by our son, which he would have no doubt immediately placed in his mouth."

"Why didn't you just get a knife out of the kitchen?"

"Because they were too cumbersome to do the job properly. Like it or not, your razor was the only tool that would do."

"Now what am I supposed to use to shave with?"

Morrigan calmly strolled over to her chest of drawers, pulled out the top drawer, and retrieved her own razor, which was decidedly smaller and more elegant than his. With a loud sigh she handed the small object to him, saying "Here, you may use mine. However, promise me that you shall sharpen it when you are done. I do not want your wiry whiskers fouling the blade."

"You couldn't have just used yours?"

"Do not be silly. That would have most certainly ruined it."

He stood there with a stupefied look, unable to reply. All he could do was stare blankly down at the small, intricately carved wooden handle he held in his palm.

"You had better hurry, my love. Our guests will arriving here shortly." the witch said in a chipper tone before giving him a peck on his check and walking out of the room.

He shook his head, thinking to himself what a perplexing creature he had married. With a quick flick of his wrist, the razor blade flipped out of its handle and he brought the sharp object against his face to finish what he started.

When he was finished shaving, he went to join his witch and their son, who were both outside the cozy cottage. As he walked through the door, The Warden saw Seth near the garden, playing with his most trusted and faithful companion, the mabari, Leo.

The child held a large stick out and shook it back and forth, urging the hound to take the bait, all the while Seth merrily chanted "Stick, Leo! Stick! Get it!" as he tempted the beast with the slobbery and chewed-up item.

Morrigan stood a few yards away, watching her son with her arms folded. And even though her eyes never strayed from Seth, The Warden could plainly see that his witch was distracted by something. She bore a slight smile on her lips as she watched Leo bark and hop in circles around the child as he tried in vain to grasp the prize that Seth held just out of reach.

She never even noticed her warden as he walked up to her until he put his arm around her waist, drawing her close to him. Her smile widened when she saw him; her large golden eyes meeting with his. He positioned himself behind her and pressed her against him, bending down to nuzzle against the back of her neck with a few soft and well-placed kisses.

Usually when he did such things, she melted in his arms from the attention. But this time, Morrigan barely seemed to notice. Instead, she asked, "Do you see how much our son has grown?" with a thoughtful sigh.

"I do." The Warden replied, not bothering to look up, "he's getting bigger every day."

"'Tis a rather remarkable thing, is it not?"

"What is?"

"_Our son_. From we two came a living breathing child. And someday he shall grow to be a man. His destiny will be to forever change the world."

"What's gotten into you today?"

The witch turned in his arms to face him. Her gaze held none of the usual steel he was accustomed to seeing in her. Instead, there was a softness in her look; a softness that made him feel a bit uneasy.

"In truth, there is much we need to discuss, you and I." she said.

"Such as?"

"I am late." she whispered.

"Late for what?" he asked, casting a quizzical eye down to his witch.

"Surely, even you cannot be so dense."

He stood there looking at her with the same confused look for a minute while his mind tried to process the information. What could she possibly be late for, he asked himself. Morrigan wasn't going anywhere that he knew of, at least not without him. There wasn't anything she needed to have done that he knew about. Then, like a flash out of the darkness, it hit him.

"_Oh_!" he exclaimed, "you're 'late'!"

"Silly ass." the witch giggled.

"So does this mean what I think it means?"

"Indeed it does. 'Tis time to start making preparations for a new arrival into our family."

"Morrigan, that's wonderful!" he hollered out as he picked her up and swung her around in gleeful jubilance.

"Dwemer! Put me down!" the witch yelled, "do you not recall what happened the last time?"

"Oh, right." he muttered sheepishly as he set her feet back on the ground.

"I'll not take any chances this time."

"I agree. And I'll be here to take care of you every step of the way."

His words instantly wiped the smile off her face, and caused her to grumble. "Your constant doting is precisely what I do _not_ need. I still remember how you treated me while I carried Seth." she huffed.

"Hey, that's not fair. I was only around for the very last part. By then, you were already big as a..."

That was all he could get out before Morrigan's angry glare cut him off in mid sentence. "I do not need you to remind me how bloated and horrid I appeared."

"What are you talking about? You were absolutely ravishing. And I have no doubts that this time you'll be just as lovely." he said, trying to sooth her with his words and a smile.

"You are a terrible liar. You only say such things to avoid drawing my ire." she scoffed, folding her arms and turning her face away from his.

He reached out and gently brought her eyes back to his, and said, "Morrigan...I meant every word. You're more beautiful to me today than ever. I'm so thankful to wake up next to you each and every morning."

"'Tis pure sentimental nonsense. I did not tell you I was pregnant so that you may badger me with your foolishness."

He shot back a sly grin, "You're a terrible liar." he said, not believing a single word.

"Had I known this conversation would take such a turn, I would have avoided it altogether."

"So you don't want me to tell how addicted to you I am?"

"I did not say that. You are twisting my words, as usual."

"Then what is it?"

"'Tis just that...I...I..." the witch stammered, trying to collect her thoughts, which he had cast into disarray once again.

But before she was forced to admit defeat and succumb to the emotions and feelings he generated inside her; things that she both longed to tell him and yet despised speaking, Leo began barking loudly, announcing the approach of riders on horseback as they came over the low ridge and towards the small cottage. Relief filled Morrigan as both she and The Warden looked up to see ten mounted soldiers, their shiny armor glistening in the morning sun, with one bearing the royal banner of the Theirin coat of arms, escorting the king and his consort, Dyana.

The Warden peered down at his witch and said with a grin, "Saved by Alistair. I guess this means you owe him one."

"If you say so much as a single word to him about this, I swear I shall never forgive you."

"Add it to the list." he replied with a smirk.

"Dwemer, I am serious. Not one word."

"Don't worry, I won't say anything." he assured as he begrudgingly pried himself from his witch's side in order to greet the king.

Alistair threw his leg up and over his horse and dismounted, shouting a robust "Dwemer!" in greeting as he did so.

"You're earlier than I thought you'd be. That woman of yours not slowing you do, I see." The Warden replied as he approached the king and grasped his hand in a hearty handshake.

"Dyana..." The Warden said with a nod as he acknowledged the still-mounted woman.

"Warden..." she returned with a slight nod of her own.

"If your going to be saddled with this big lug, just call me Dwemer."

"I'll try to remember that."

"So," Alistair began, "just the four of us going on holiday. It'll be great to finally get away for a bit. I can hardly wait."

"The _four_ of us?" The Warden questioned as he nodded in the direction of the ten mounted knights.

" I know, I know." Alistair sighed, "Arl Eamon won't let me go anywhere without them. He says it's for my own good. Maker's breath! He still treats me like I'm a child."

"Considering what's happened since you took the throne, can you blame him?"

"No. I guess not." the king replied thoughtfully, "but I can blame _you_."

"Me? What did I do?"

"Unless you've forgotten, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be king in the first place."

"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"Not on your life."

The pair strolled toward Morrigan, catching up on what had transpired since they saw each other last, some six months ago. Alistair informed his friend of the trouble that was brewing in the northern bannorn, in the aftermath of the invasion by the Order of Bohlen. Many of the banns had been killed and the lords took to squabbling among themselves over who rightfully controlled the lands. The Warden could see the strain it was putting on the king as he tried to sort out the mess. Alistair looked tired and overworked. This was the greatest political challenge that he had faced so far, and it was a weary chore.

"I've called for a landsmeet to settle the matter once and for all." Alistair said, "The first one since I became king more than three years ago."

"What does Eamon think about that?"

"Eamon was actually the one who suggested that I do it."

"Have you told Fergus about it yet?"

"Not yet, I figure I can talk to him when we pass through Highever on our way to West Hill. You are going to the castle before we leave, aren't you?"

"Yes. Seth will be staying with his uncle for a few days while we're gone. It's been awhile since Fergus has seen him. I think having Seth around reminds my bother of Oren, that's why he likes it so much."

"Dwemer...there's something else..." Alistair said with a bit of uncertainty, "Eamon wants you to be at the landsmeet as well."

"Me? What for?"

"A show of strength and solidarity. The lords will think twice about causing any trouble when they see you."

"Certainly not!" Morrigan barked, "We've done our bit for king and country. Need I remind you that Dwemer has laid down his blades for good."

"Morrigan..." Alistair greeted with a slight nod, "charming as ever, I see."

The king turned back to The Warden, "Just hear me out, that's all I ask."

"I should have known this holiday of yours was nothing more than an elaborate ruse to lure my husband back into doing your work for you." the witch hissed.

"Morrigan, let him finish."

"It's no ruse, I promise. No one is forcing you to do anything. All I'm asking is that you come back with me to Denerim after our trip. You won't have to do anything other than stand around. It'll be very boring."

"I'll think about it." was the only reply The Warden offered. Morrigan, appalled that he would even consider such a thing, folded her arms and rolled her eyes in disgust.

"Fair enough."

It was then that Leo decided he could no longer contain his joy at seeing Alistair and charged the king, jumping up at him with his large paws and knocking Alistair backwards onto the ground, causing him to land on his backside with a _thud_.

"Alright, boy!" the king exclaimed as he tried to defend himself through a barrage of furious licks by a wet, slobbery tongue, "I'm glad to see you, too."

"Alright, Leo, that's enough." The Warden commanded. As soon as the beast heard his master's words, he hopped off Alistair and quickly plopped his large rump on the ground with his stubby tail wagging rapidly.

The king raised himself from the ground, wiping the slobber from his face and spiting a few times to get the residue from his mouth, and making a grimace while he did. After he felt he had sufficiently expelled the slime, he noticed a certain young child standing beside him, looking up at him impatiently.

Alistair crouched down so that he was eye level with Seth, placing his hands on his knees, and asked, "And how's my favorite two-year-old?"

"Aleestawr! Aleestawr!" the boy cried jubilantly was he clapped his chubby little hands. "Did you bwing me sumpin?"

"Seth!" the witch scolded, "Alistair surely has more important things to do than to worry about bringing you gifts." which caused the boy to frown.

"No, it's alright." Alistair said with a chuckle, "As a matter of fact, I do have something for you."

Instantly the child's eyes lit up and he excitedly squirmed in his spot as he impatiently waited to see what wonderful prize the king brought for him.

"What? What?"

"Now let me see here...where did I put that blasted thing?" Alistair mumbled as his hands patted his body, searching for the item.

With a stiff snap of his fingers, he exclaimed "That's right! Now I remember!" and reached behind Seth's tiny ear, and with a simple gesture, seemed to pull a shiny new gold sovereign from it, completely amazing the boy.

"Again! Again!" Seth said as he merrily clapped his hands in utter amazement of the king's 'magic'.

"Look Mutha! Magic!" the toddler exclaimed to his mother.

"'Tis hardly magic. 'Twas merely a simple parlor trick. And not a very good one at that."

Alistair covered his face with the side of his hand and whispered, "Don't listen to her. She's just jealous because you liked my little trick, that's all."

"If your desire is to see _real_ magic, I can certainly accommodate you." the witch huffed as her open palm began to glow, indicating that she was charging a spell that would most likely be directed at the king.

"Morrigan...be nice." The Warden said in an almost fatherly tone.

"Our son has seen me change my form, call lightning from the sky, spout fire from my fingertips, as well as seen me perform enumerable acts of magic...yet he is still astonished by Alistair's simple trick?"

"He's two. It's not that hard to amuse him."

"As easily as you, yourself, are amused, I would think age had little to do with it."

"Funny." The Warden replied, smirking. "Come on, we need to get our things and head to the castle."

The Warden and his witch gathered the items they would need for the long trip to West Hill, which was an old fort built along the northern Ferelden coast centuries ago. The fort was originally constructed to stem the ever increasing attacks by marauders from the Waking Sea. In it's heyday, it was a thriving outpost with thousands of inhabitants. But in recent times, with the threat by the corsairs long since gone, West Hill was a mere shadow of its former glory, with many of it's tall spires and watchtowers now silent after having spent so many years being faithfully manned by a large garrison of the king's troops.

Still, there were rumored to be miles of underground passageways laying beneath the thick stone walls. With most of the fortress essentially turned into one vast storage depot, many of those passages were now covered over and hadn't been seen or used in decades, if not longer. No one knew for certain what secrets those old tunnels held, if any. But The Warden and Alistair intended to find out. Who knows what bits of history they would be able to uncover in those dark depths?

The towers of Castle Cousland rose proudly into the sky, as strong as the family who had called this place home for countless generations. It was here that The Warden spent his childhood days, wandering the myriad of corridors and keeping himself company while his father, Teyrn Bryce Cousland, handled the day-to-day dealings of running the largest teyrnir in Ferelden. Mostly, his childhood was a happy one and he was known to explore every last nook and cranny of his father's vast estate, generally staying out much longer than he was supposed to and drawing a long scolding from his mother. But for all its glory, Castle Cousland was home to many dark memories as well.

It was here that The Warden witnessed his family's betrayal at the hands of Lord Rendon Howe, and the murder of both his parents one cold and bloody night. He and his brother Fergus, the current teyrn of Highever, lost nearly everything they held dear on that fateful night. If not for the intervention of the Grey Warden, Duncan, The Warden, himself, may very well have been counted among those who were lost. It was this defining moment that changed his life forever and sent him on the path to becoming Ferelden's most revered hero since Andraste, herself.

Then, just a few short months ago, the evil priest, Denolian, and his Order of Bohlen, captured the castle and took it for their own, setting fire to the entire village of Highever and burning it to the ground in the process. The priest's mad scheme of turning thousands of his own followers into mindless monsters actually succeeded, and it took all of The Warden's strength and cunning to thwart the mad priest and his vile minions. If not for the aide of his friends and his witch, he would not have been able to send Denolian back to the infernal pit from which he came. Ferelden was still dealing with the after effects of that carnage.

But this time The Warden's visit to his boyhood home was not under such dire circumstances. He was here to bring his young son to visit with the teyrn for a few days while he and Morrigan accompanied Alistair and Dyana on their trip to West Hill. Fergus lost his own young son, Oren, on the night of Howe's attack, and it seemed that having Seth around did much to boost the teyrn's spirits. Much to the chagrin of Morrigan, Fergus spent as much time as he could spoiling the lad. The teyrn showered Seth with all sorts of toys and gifts; the finest that money could buy. The Warden's young son was certainly the envy of any boy in the land.

The king made sure to inform Fergus of the landsmeet while he was there as well. With the three most powerful and influential men in Ferelden all standing together, it would be nearly impossible for the bickering lords to go against any decrees Alistair issued concerning the matters of the northern bannorn. The banns would be forced to cease their squabbles and fall in line behind the king and whatever decisions he made. Such was the way of politics in Ferelden. Alistair's rule was only as safe as the political influence he could support. And no lord was about to go against Fergus, Eamon, _and_ The Warden's wishes. To do so would equate to political suicide.

So with Seth suitably distracted by the newest pile of gifts from his uncle, the parents kissed their son and left him in Fergus' care. The mushiness only served to aggravate the tot, who felt he was only being kept from his newest treasures and that their goodbyes were meant to keep him from his new playthings as long as possible. When Morrigan and The Warden at last departed, Seth tore into the pile like a hungry predator leaping toward its prey. He was too excited to even know which toy to play with first.

"So, am I to understand that you and Alistair will be spending all your time trudging through the bottom of some old dusty fortress?" Morrigan asked from her spot behind The Warden on his horse once they resumed their trek westward.

"That's the plan." he replied.

"Whatever for? What could you possibly hope to find that would be on any use?"

"Who knows? That's part of the fun. We might not find anything at all."

"Or you may find a great deal more than you bargained for."

"You worry too much. Relax a little. It'll be fun."

"As you wish. I shall try." the witch said with a sigh, "but if there is trouble, you can expect no help from me."

"There won't be any trouble, I promise. There are no darkspawn or dragons or any other wicked creatures in West Hill. It's just a bunch of empty passages that have been sealed up for years."

"You had better be right. I'll not risk changing forms to save you, no matter what the circumstance."

"You're really terrified you'll lose this child, too, aren't you?" he asked as he cast her a glance over his shoulder.

"And you are not?"

"I told you, what happened last time was not your fault. Sometimes things just happen."

"I intend to ensure that those _things_ do not happen again."

"Everything is going to be fine. I give you my word."

"Oh, my love, were only it your place to make such a promise. Sadly, however, 'tis something you cannot control."

_Liked it? Hated it? Don't forget to click on the review button and let me know what you thought. And for even more fantastic stuff (including excellent drawings from the stories) join us at the Official OoA website (the link can be found on my profile)._


	2. Chapter 2

**Part II**

West Hill lay just east of the River Dane delta, about a day's ride west of Highever. The aging fortress was perched on top of one of the small rounded mountains of an ancient range that ran through the region; the northernmost offshoot of the mighty Frostback Mountains. The clean and crisp air was far fresher so far from Denerim, and even Highever, to a lesser degree. There was no stench of farm animals and woodsmoke filling the air. There was no clutter of buildings and people scampering about. Other than the fortress, itself, which still housed about two hundred men, there were no other settlements for many miles.

Upon arriving at West Hill, the party immediately set up their camp beneath the shadows of the tall trees that grew along the base of one of the mountains, just beyond the edge of the forest. While Alistair and The Warden were exploring the bowels of the fortress, Morrigan planned to spend her time getting herself acquainted with the surrounding woodlands. The witch felt that civilization had dulled her instincts and longed to reconnect with her wild spirit.

Alistair did his best to make the getaway seem as private as he could by making his knights take up positions a good distance from the camp, very nearly out of view. But it did little to instill the carefree attitude the king was seeking. Instead, the guards were a constant reminder of how much everything had changed for all of them over the course of only a few short years. Nothing could ever be the way it once was, no matter how badly any of them wished it.

It was just more than five years ago that the three of them, The Warden, Morrigan, and Alistair, along with the mabari, Leo, emerged from the Korcari Wilds and began their quest to rebuild an army to defend Ferelden from the darkspawn. Now each of them had grown and matured by learning to face their greatest fears and conquer them. Alistair became king and a great leader, something he was sure he was totally unsuited for. The Warden overcame his doubts about himself and discovered his own self-worth. But it was Morrigan who dealt with the greatest challenge of all: Love.

It was the most terrifying time of her life. Since the witch was a small girl, Flemeth had taught her about the dangers of love. Love was a weakness, pure and simple. But then she met _him_ and everything she thought she knew was turned upside down. For the first time in her life, she experienced what real love was, and it scared the hell out of her.

When Flemeth originally sent Morrigan with The Warden to aid him in his quest, the witch knew her role very clearly. She, like him, had a mission of her own to complete and she aimed to do just that. But the more she was around him, the closer to him she grew. At first she would become annoyed with how he treated her; like she was some soft and fragile thing. But she later realized that it was only because she was angry with herself for enjoying how he made her feel. And no matter how much she tried to resist, the end result was inevitable: She fell for him completely. She never cared for anyone else before and would have done anything for him. That was why she had to leave. To protect him from what was to come. And to protect herself from the only being on Earth she had no defense against.

If even the most gifted prophet had told her then that she would be a happily married woman with children of her own, the witch would have laughed in their face and proclaimed them as nothing more than a fool. But, as Morrigan discovered, love was not the weakness she took it for. In fact, love was quite possibly the strongest force in the universe. It made one do things without rhyme or reason; all for the sake of another. And not even she was immune from its awesome effects.

That evening, after the tents had been erected and the campfire started, Alistair and Dyana found themselves taking one of their many walks together. It was something that they often did, strolling hand-in-hand around the royal palace in Denerim after he had had a long busy day of hectic political dealings. The couple would pretend that the many guards and servants didn't exist at all so that they could at least have the illusion of privacy.

But lately, Dyana had been growing more and more distant. With each evening walk, Alistair was finding that he was doing most of the talking while she said very little if anything at all. He would notice that she would be looking somewhere distant, and her thoughts were plainly elsewhere. While the king may not have been the most experienced person when it came to the fairer sex, he knew enough to know that something wasn't right.

He figured that his being so busy all the time was starting to take it's toll on their relationship. The duties of being king left little room for romance. She was feeling left out. That was another reason he planned this holiday. Not only would it give him a chance to recuperate and recharge before dealing with the landsmeet, it would give he and Dyana a chance for some much-needed quality time together; something he felt they both desperately needed. In addition, he intended to ask her a very important question that he'd been wanting to ask for some time. He was going to ask Dyana to be his queen.

That was why Alistair invited The Warden to go with him on this trip. He was going to need the support of his closest friend to help get him through the ordeal. The king knew he could count on The Warden for a few choice words of advice and encouragement. After all, if The Warden knew the right words to say to Morrigan, helping him with Dyana should prove to be no problem at whatsoever.

Alistair and Dyana's walk soon took them near the tent of The Warden and his witch, who just happened to be inside discussing something of their own. The king had never been one to eavesdrop, but he could clearly make out their muffled words coming from inside the tent, and what he heard baffled him.

"What do you think you are doing?" he heard Morrigan say in a very annoyed tone.

"What?" came her warden's clueless reply.

"Just where do you think you are putting that?"

"You said I could put it in there."

"I most certainly said no such thing."

"Then where do you want me to put it?"

"Put _it_ where it goes and no place else."

"Are they doing what I think they're doing?" Dyana asked in a hushed whisper.

"I don't know. What do you think they're doing?" Alistair asked in return.

"_You know..._"

"Honestly, I haven't a clue."

"Think about it. What does it sound like?"

After a few seconds spent pondering, Alistair let out a shocked gasp. "_There_? You mean people actually do that?" he asked, to which Dyana replied with a subtle nod.

"I thought it was just a story the older templars made up to tease me."

Suddenly and without warning, the flap on the tent was tossed open and Morrigan came barging out, followed by her warden who had the look of a man who knew he'd done something wrong, but didn't quite know what it was. In one hand, the witch held a decorative knapsack, and in the other was a wooden brush.

"It goes in here." she huffed as she flipped open the knapsack and placed the brush inside.

"I could've sworn you told me it was the other bag."

"Impossible man. If you paid as much attention to my words as you do my...Oh..." the witch said, stopping in mid-sentence when she noticed Alistair and Dyana standing there with the most curious expressions on their faces.

"Uh...Morrigan." Alistair muttered.

"Why do you stare at me so?"

"Stare? Who's staring? I'm not staring. Why would you even ask something like that?"

"Because the both of you look as though you've just witnessed something dreadful."

"Uhm...it's nothing. Really."

A scowl etched itself into Morrigan's face and her arms folded. "You were eavesdropping on us, weren't you?"

"Us? No! Never!"

"Alistair, do not lie to me."

"It's just that...well...we heard you two arguing and it sounded like..."

"Like what?" the witch asked with her foot impatiently tapping the ground.

"Like you were...busy." Dyana answered, "very very busy. That's all."

The Warden and Morrigan each cast the other a glance as if to see if the other had some clue as to the couple's meaning. The witch looked down at the knapsack she held and after a few seconds began to chuckle with a knowing smile.

Recalling she and her warden's words, the witch quipped ,"silly girl. _That_ he does whenever he desires." as she leisurely strolled back into the tent.

Dyana and Alistair stood there with there mouths hung wide open in shock. They slowly turned to one another, not knowing if what they'd just heard was real or imagined.

"Surely she can't be serious. She's playing with us, as usual." Alistair said.

"She _is_ joking, isn't she?" the king asked The Warden.

The Warden twitched his eyebrows rapidly a couple of times and smiled. And without saying a word, he joined his witch in the tent and closed the flap behind him, leaving Dyana and Alistair outside to deal with the uncomfortable situation by themselves.

"I'm just going to assume that they were screwing with us and leave it at that." Alistair concluded, trying to sound confident.

"That's probably best." Dyana agreed.

* * *

The next day found The Warden and Alistair, joined by the ever faithful mabari, searching through the lower levels of the fortress trying to find any long since forgotten secrets that might be stashed away beneath the layers of brick and stone. The two of them had the aid of an old map which held the layout of the lower tunnels, and were using it to guide them as they moved piles of junk from one side to the other in an effort to locate the tell-tales signs of any sealed off passageways. The work as dirty and sweaty, but the chance to find something that no other person had seen in years drove the men on.

Neither man was especially interested in anthropology, but on their numerous quests together they had often come across rare and powerful artifacts that had been lying untouched by human hands for centuries. The opportunity to do more of the same with only a minimal threat of being attacked appealed to both of them. Especially Alistair, whose father, King Maric, suffered his greatest defeat at West Hill.

Maric was betrayed by one of his own men during his campaign to restore the throne of Ferelden to the Theirin family line. Alistair's father was tricked into believing that the taking of West Hill would be a major victory towards his goals, but instead he found the armies of the usurper king, Meghren, waiting there for him. The ensuing battle was a complete disaster for Maric and he barely made it out with his own life.

Alistair hoped to find some evidence who the betrayer was, and maybe even a possible link to his own father, whom he barely knew. He was born a bastard to a serving wench and was raised out of view so as not to cause harm to his family's good name. He'd met his brother a few times, but Cailin never seemed all that interested in getting to know Alistair too well. That didn't mean that Alistair didn't want some form of connection to his family, quite the contrary. And finding any evidence concerning his father's time at West Hill would do just that, he felt.

Of course, there were other reasons why Alistair wanted The Warden to accompany him on his search. After waiting his entire life, the king had finally found someone with whom he felt a special bond and The Warden had always been there to help him sort through his feelings and make sense of it all. Dyana meant everything to him, and he meant to show her just how much he cared by asking for her hand in marriage. He was certain she would say yes, but that still didn't make the task any easier. And as always, whenever he needed support, The Warden was there to lend it.

"Dwemer..." Alistair began as the two toiled, "can I ask you something?"

"You just did." The Warden replied with his usual sarcasm.

"I'm serious. This is important."

The Warden could tell by the look on his friend's face that something was indeed troubling Alistair greatly. He stopped what he was doing and gave the king his full attention, saying "Alright. What do you need?"

"I was wondering..." Alisitair said, pausing for a brief moment to collect his thoughts, "when you asked Morrigan to be your wife, how did you go about it?"

"That _is_ quite question, now isn't it?" The Warden replied, "Why do you want to know? You're not thinking of proposing to Dyana, are you?"

By the look on the king's face, The Warden knew the answer right away. "Ah, so our shy little king is finally growing up."

"I should have known you'd be this way. Never mind. Forget I said anything." Alistair snapped in a grumpy tone.

"I'm sorry. I was only teasing."

"The truth is, I never really asked her. Not in the traditional sense, anyway. We just sort of came to the conclusion that's what we'd do." The Warden explained, "I'm sure you probably figured Morrigan wasn't the marrying type, and for the longest time I would have agreed with you. But one day she asked me what sort of future I saw for our relationship and I told her I wouldn't mind maybe settling down somewhere with her."

"I bet that didn't go over too well."

"Not as badly as you'd think, actually. See, by that time we'd been together for a while and she knew I was ready to make that sort of commitment. And it's not that she didn't want to, but caring for someone and having feelings about them was still very new to her. She needed time to process it."

"Big surprise, there." Alistair jeered with a smirk.

The kings remark caused The Warden's face to form into a scowl, "look, do you want to know or not?" he asked.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't serious. Yes, I want to know. Please continue."

"Well, it took some time for her to decide that she was ready. It was just before her hearing at the Chantry that she told me she would go back to Highever with me and that she would be my bride if that's what I wanted."

"So, essentially, she asked you, then?"

"In a manner of speaking, you could say that, I suppose. I prefer to think that we asked each other."

"Well, that's really no help to me at all. How am I supposed to propose to Dyana when you couldn't even do it to Morrigan?"

"And just what is that supposed to mean? What do you think Morrigan would have done if I would have asked her directly?"

"She probably would have gouged out your eyes."

"Exactly."

"I see your point. But where does that leave me?"

"Where do you want it to leave you? Are you sure it's what you want?"

"More than anything. I knew it from the first moment I laid eyes on her."

"Then if you think she'll agree, ask her. But be careful, Alistair. If marriage is something Dyana isn't prepared for, you could do a lot of damage. I don't want to see you get hurt." The Warden warned his friend, urging him to use caution.

"Of course she'll agree."

"Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I mean, why wouldn't she?"

* * *

Back closer to the camp, Morrigan was spending her day walking through the woods and enjoying some time to herself. Ever since she and The Warden moved into their cottage on the edge of the Cousland estate, she hadn't had the chance to be alone hardly at all, and now that she had the opportunity, she was going to take full advantage of it. So Morrigan took in the delights of the forest around her without being encumbered by her son or distracted by her husband for once. Not that she greatly minded either of those things, but sometimes one deserves a bit of peace and quiet and some time for oneself.

And in her seclusion the witch did more than a small amount of thinking. She thought about the past and how her life came to be what it was. And while she would have never openly admitted it to anyone, she felt truly fortunate, even if her life hadn't quite turned out the way she expected it to.

Despite Flemeth's best efforts, Morrigan had found out what was really important in life. Having power and commanding people's respect definitely had its uses, but the feelings she got from those things were quite small compared to how _he_ made her feel. She had found a man who loved her and accepted her entirely as she was, and that was a true gift that wasn't to be taken lightly. And even though Seth's conception was meant to serve a purpose, the magic that radiated from his large golden eyes when she looked at him was far more powerful than any spell she'd ever known. Yes, she thought, she was truly fortunate, indeed.

And now, in the ultimate expression of their love, Morrigan and her warden were expecting another child. And though she knew there would be challenges ahead, especially considering they already had one small child to care for, the end result would be very much worth the effort and sacrifice.

Morrigan looked down at her flat stomach and gently placed her hand against it, trying to feel the life that was growing inside her. She could almost see what the baby looked like. Her lips formed into a small smile as she stood there, allowing herself to bask in the sun's rays that streamed through the thick branches of the trees, knowing in her heart that the choices she made had been the correct ones.

Unfortunately for the witch, her solitude didn't last nearly as long as she would have liked and she heard the distinct sound of someone walking through the dense brush towards her. The witch grumbled to herself as she turned to face the source of the noise, expecting to see her warden burst through the bushes after having used his connection to track her down yet again. But, it wasn't The Warden who was seeking her out this time. Morrigan watched as she saw Dyana break through the underbrush and approach.

"Dyana. I must say this is rather...unexpected." Morrigan said.

"My lady." Dyana replied, giving a slight bow as she did.

"You may stop such nonsense. I've no need for it."

"I thought that's how you wanted me to address you."

"I've grown tired of hearing it. I must admit, at first, 'twas rather quaint, but after having heard it endlessly from nearly every man woman and child in all Ferelden, it has become nothing but a bothersome nuisance. I do not care if I never hear those words again."

"Yes, my la...I mean, yes...Morrigan."

"There. 'Tis much better. Now, was there something you needed of me?"

"As a matter of fact, there was."

"Well, out with it girl. I've not got all day."

"I was wondering if I could talk to you..." the young woman started to say, but became hesitant at speaking the last words, fearful of incurring the witch's wrath yet again.

After taking a few seconds to find the will, she was finally able to finish, saying "It's about Alistair"

A slight gleam appeared in the witch's eyes and she perked up, "am I to understand that there is trouble in paradise?" she chirped.

"You could say that."

"Well, well. 'Tis _most_ interesting. Tell me, what has that imbecilic oaf done?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong. Alistair's a really good man and I'm grateful for everything that he's given me."

"Then what could possibly be the problem?"

"It's just that...well...he smothers me. I can't do anything without him being right there. I have to lie about having to use the garderobe just to get a few moments of peace. It's making me insane."

"Have you told him this? Surely your time would be better served explaining it to him rather than me."

"I've thought about that." Dyana said as she clasped her hands together and stared off in the distance as if she was trying to come to grips with something.

"You've not told me everything, have you? There is still more."

"Yes, there is." Dyana replied softly, "I...I don't think I'm in love with him."

"'Tis a problem, to be sure. But you should be honest and tell him these things. Leading him on will only end badly...for both of you."

"But I _do_ care for him very much, just not in the way he wants me to. I don't want to hurt him, which is why I'm asking you for your advice."

"At this point, it may already be too late. Despite your best intentions he will most likely be hurt. The question is: Do you have the courage to hurt him now and save him from the lies you would have to tell to keep up your charade? If you care for him as you say, then you know what must be done."

"You're right, of course. I have to be truthful with him. I just hope he understands."

"Knowing Alistair as I do, probably not."

* * *

That night, after the two men had returned from their search in the fortress, the group sat around the fire and enjoyed a fine supper that The Warden prepared for them. Everyone, that is, except Dyana, who fidgeted uneasily in her spot next to Alistair, barely touching her supper while the others freely conversed. Alistair failed to notice her uneasiness, as he was too caught up in talking about the wonderful things he and The Warden found while scrounging through the dark tunnels beneath the fortress. Among them being a letter from Meghren to the spy that infiltrated King Maric's forces. And while he couldn't tell for sure, Alistair was certain there was something about the letter that was very special. He intended to have the historians in Denerim take a look at it when he returned.

Feeling particularly good about his prize, Alistair looked across to his friend and gave an inquisitive look to feel out the situation to see if the time was right. The Warden gave a shrug and gestured to Dyana as if to say "You never know until you try." And before he could talk himself out of it, Alistair quickly stood up to gain everyone's attention.

"There's an important question I've been wanting to ask someone very special to me." He announced before kneeling down in front of Dyana and taking her hand in his. The woman's eyes grew wide and her heart started thumping hard and fast inside her chest, fearing that she already knew what he was about to ask her.

Morrigan, also seeing what was about to happen, tried to derail the situation, saying, "Alistair, perhaps now is not the best time."

The king looked back at the witch, "Why not? I've been waiting my whole life to ask this." he said before returning his focus to the woman who sat before him.

Dyana's eyes pleaded with Morrigan to intervene. They begged the witch to do something, anything, to stop Alistair from what he was about to do. Sometimes, though, there isn't anything that can be done.

"Dyana," Alistair began, "Over these months we've been together you've come to mean a great deal to me. I love you more than anything in this world. Will you do me the honor of marrying me and becoming my queen?"

"Oh, Alistair...I...I..." the woman stumbled, until she finally blurted out, "I can't." before she burst into tears and ran off into the darkness.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Part III**

Long after The Warden and Morrigan retired to the privacy of their tent, Alistair remained alone by the fire. He sat there on the old log that served as his temporary throne and drew circles in the dirt with a slender stick for hours. His long face was a telling sign of his emotional state. He paid little heed to the slowly dying embers in front of him as he twirled the stick around and around in his hands while he thought to himself.

What had started out as a glorious and promising day ended in absolute disaster. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out where he'd gone so terribly wrong. He was so sure that she would say yes, but that's not at all what happened. Instead, she gave a resounding "no" and ran off. He hadn't spoken to her or seen her since. And now, he was left to sit there by the fire, sifting through his thoughts and trying to piece everything together.

He heard a weak whimper and looked up to see Leo standing beside him, as if sensing Alistair's gloom and offering support. The king reached over and gave the mabari's head a good scratch and a few gentle pats in appreciation, saying "at least you still care, don't you boy?" to the beast.

Leo, satisfied by the attention, gave a few quick barks before bouncing off back to his master's tent, leaving Alistair alone to his misery once more.

"Ungrateful mongrel." the king muttered under his breath.

Little did Alistair know that he was being spied by two pairs of eyes hidden from view inside The Warden's tent. The Warden was looking at his moping friend with a great deal of concern, wanting to go out to him and try to lend support to the man who sat by the fire, wallowing in his sorrow. The witch stared as well, but more out of curiosity than anything else.

"I should go out there and talk to him." he said.

"Whatever for? Alistair is a grown man, perfectly capable of handling his own affairs." Morrigan replied, shooting a curious stare at her warden.

"You're being a little callous, don't you think? The man just had his heart ripped from his chest."

"'Twas entirely by his own doing. Had he not rushed in so blindly, perhaps he would have spared himself the pain. 'Tis a lesson he must learn for himself."

"He's my friend and he needs me."

"You cannot fix this for him, my love. 'Tis best to let things sort themselves without our meddling."

"_Our_ meddling?" he asked, more than a little surprised by her choice of words, "what's that supposed to mean? You know something, don't you? You knew Dyana was going to say no, didn't you?"

"Now is not the time for tiresome questions."

"_Morrigan_..."

The witch let out a grumbling sigh, "if you must know, the answer is yes. I was aware of what her response would be." she confirmed.

"Dyana had confided in me of her concerns regarding Alistair."

"Concerns? What concerns?"

"'Twas a conversation that was meant to remain between we two. If I tell you, then you will simply tell Alistair."

"You're damn right I will. He deserves to know."

"'Tis precisely why I chose to remain silent on the matter. What was said between she and me was done so in confidence. I'll not resort to idle gossiping."

"Alright, you want to play it that way? Fine. I'll remember that." he said in a huff.

"Dwemer..." she said softly, trying to sooth him.

"Don't Dwemer me." he said, not having it, "just look at him out there, Morrigan. He's miserable and he has no clue what he did wrong. If it were you, don't you think you would deserve to know?"

"Impossible man."

"Well?"

"Very well." the witch relented, "but it shall be me who tells him."

"_You_?" he gasped in amazement, nearly choking, "I wanted to make him feel better, not try to convince him to jump from a cliff."

"And as usual, I find your attempts at humor are inappropriate."

"You have to admit, you talking to Alistair about something like this is a bit out of the ordinary."

"You act as though I've no skill for it."

The Warden shot his witch a glance, "Do you?" he asked.

"Do not be absurd. I can be quite diplomatic when the situation requires. You of all people should know this." the witch quipped in defense.

"That might be so," he said, "but I'm more concerned about the circumstances than your skills at diplomacy. He's just had his heart broken by the woman he loves, is that something you really want to talk to him about?"

"Quite honestly, no. But if Alistair is to learn from his mistakes he needs a woman's point of view so that he may better understand."

"You almost sound like you care." The Warden joked, chuckling a bit

Morrigan let out a long and exasperated groan, "impossible man." she fumed as she stomped out of the tent.

Alistair was still sitting by himself next to the fire, wearing a sad look of clueless depression on his face when Morrigan approached him.

The witch stood over him, folded her arms and said, "Alistair, we must talk."

"Not now, Morrigan." he replied sourly without even bothering to look up at her, "I'm not in the mood."

"Such pigheadedness is precisely the reason why you are in your current predicament. I might be more inclined to listen to someone who may have valuable input, were I you. However, 'tis your decision. Sit there like a lump and be miserable for all I care." she hissed, knowing such words would undoubtedly grab his attention.

And just as she predicted, Alistair perked up, his curiosity piqued by the witch's words. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

"I talked with Dyana earlier today. She expressed several concerns regarding you."

A jarring wave of understanding crashed through Alistair, "you knew, didn't you?." he said.

"You knew she would say no. That's why you tried to stop me."

"I did, indeed."

"Why? What did I do wrong?"

"Perhaps 'tis best if you ask her that for yourself." the witch suggested.

"Did you see how she ran off? She doesn't want to talk to me right now. If she ever does again."

"Yes, perhaps 'tis best to ignore the situation entirely. Spare yourself the pain of your failure. Lock yourself away inside a shell and hide from your mistakes so that you may never be forced to learn from them." the witch chided.

"I applaud your bravery, Alistair. Truly."

"How do you mean?"

"Only a true man would brave living in constant fear of his failures rather than facing up to them. A foe that is conquered can no longer torment you. However, you choose the opposite. Your courage is to be commended."

"I see what you're trying to do, and it's not going to work this time." Alistair said, "if I talk to her I'll only mess things up worse than they already are."

"Yes, 'tis a possibility. Although, the wisdom you gain would be far more valuable in the future should such a situation arise again."

"So you think I should use this as a learning experience?"

"'Tis most assuredly a learning experience, as are all things."

"But how can I learn when I don't even know what I've done wrong?" Alistair asked in frustration, waving his hands for emphasis.

"You shall never find out if you do not ask her."

As much as he didn't want to admit it, Alistair knew the wisdom of the witch's words. Ignoring his mistake wasn't going to make his problems go away. If he was to have any chance at undoing the damage he caused, he was going to have to face his fears and have a talk with Dyana. Funny, he thought, how just a few short hours ago she was the easiest person in the world for him to talk to, and now, he was terrified to face her.

"Thanks, Morrigan." he said, his face scrunching up almost immediately after the words had left his mouth.

"That felt weird. I never thought I'd be thanking _you_ for anything. Oddly enough, I actually meant it, too."

"You can show me your gratitude by prying yourself from that log and having enough stones to talk to your woman." the witch snapped before turning on her heels and walking back to her and The Warden's tent.

After Morrigan left, Alistair sat on the log for a while longer, thinking of just what he would say to Dyana. In his mind, he tried to run over every scenario he could think of; his words and what her response would probably be. Only now, he felt he didn't know her nearly as well as he thought he did, and that troubled him a bit.

He had been so sure that she would say yes. That was really the only reason he asked her in the first place. But it seemed that there were problems in their relationship that he wasn't even aware of. Evidently they had to be pretty severe if Dyana was willing to seek the witch's counsel, and that was something which worried the king. If there were something wrong, why didn't she just come to him? A sinking feeling began to form in his stomach as Alistair pondered just how bad things could be. The only thing he knew for sure was that he wasn't going to get any of the answers he needed by sitting there in the log. He took a deep breath, and forced himself up, and headed off in search of Dyana.

The first place he looked was near their tent, but couldn't find any sign of her, which he thought was odd since he figured that was the most likely place for her to be. He stood there for a moment, looking around to try to get a sense of where she may have wandered off to. That's when he heard what sounded like a woman giggling. As a matter of fact, it sounded just like Dyana. Curious, Alistair followed the sounds as they led him farther away from the camp and off into the forest.

When he had gotten closer, he was sure he could hear two voices. Dyana's and somebody else. It was a man. Alistair clenched his fists at his sides and his steps became quicker and more determined.

Suddenly, everything came to focus in his mind. It all made sense. That's why she refused his proposal. She was seeing another man behind his back. Somehow, someway, she had managed to keep it secret from him, but now he knew the truth. And he knew exactly what he was going to do about it.

When he neared the voices, he froze in his tracks as anger was replaced by the sudden horror that he might be right. His stomach tied up in knots and he began to feel as though he might be sick. So, instead of barging in on Dyana and her gentleman caller, he decided to hide just out of view and listen for a bit to see if there was any chance at all that he could be wrong, even though he was convinced he wasn't. What other reason could she have for hiding away with another man, he asked himself.

In the bright moonlight, Alistair could make out two forms just in front of him. One was Dyana, and the other was one of his knights, his lieutenant, Darius. Oddly enough, the two weren't wrapped in some lover's embrace as Alistair pictured they would be. Instead, they each stood across from one another with their backs each reclined against a tree. And they were just talking. They were talking quietly so the king was unable to make out the specifics of their conversation, but by Dyana's reactions he knew they were discussing something intimate.

As much as Alistair wanted to move closer so that he could better hear what they were saying, he didn't, for fear of being discovered. So he stood quiet and still, and listened as hard as he could, all the while cursing the insects that seemed to grow louder by the second and making his task more difficult.

The pair seemed to have rather a great deal to talk about, as their conversation dragged on and on. Every few minutes, Alistair would decide that he had had enough and was going to barge right in and put an end to their game. But his legs simply refused to carry him any closer. He was stuck where he was whether he liked it or not, forced by his body to witness his Dyana and another man having a private discussion. He'd never felt more hurt or betrayed in his life.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid..." he muttered to himself under his breath.

And finally, after what seemed like hours, their talk came to an end as the pair gathered each other up in a long and tight embrace before he departed back to his post, leaving Dyana alone. After Darius was gone, she turned her attention to the full bright moon above, becoming lost in its mystical glow. It was only then that Alistair was at last able to muster up enough courage to will his feet forward.

"Dyana..." he said as he stepped into view.

Quickly, Dyana swung around, startled. "Alistair...I...uh...didn't know you were there."

"I know." he snapped, "It was probably because you were too busy talking to you're 'friend'."

"Oh, you saw that..."

"Yes, I did. Did you ever plan on telling me about him?"

"Alistair, wait. It's not what it looked like. I swear."

"Oh really? Well since I'm too stupid to know what it really was, why don't you explain it to me."

"Alistair, don't. Please. Darius is just a friend."

"A likely story. Why am I not surprised you'd say that?"

"You have to believe me. I would never do that to you." Dyana pleaded as she walked up close to him.

He turned away from her, saying "after tonight, I just don't know what to believe, anymore."

"I used to be _your_ Captain of the Guard, unless you've already forgotten." she replied as she tried to step back into his view.

"So? What does that have to do with anything?"

"It means I've known Darius for years. We were trained together. We came up in the royal guard together. He's a close friend. Nothing more."

"I want to believe you. I really do. But how can I?"

Dyana reached out and took his hand, squeezing in gently, "you can believe that I would never do anything to hurt you. You mean a great deal to me; more than any man ever has." she said.

"Just not enough to marry."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Alistair huffed, "if anyone's sorry, it's me. I should have known better."

"It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault. This is the first time for both of us. I'm not ready yet. _We're_ not ready."

"But I love you. That's all I need."

"I know you do." she whispered back, weakly.

"But you don't feel the same way, do you?"

"No..."

"I see."

"I want to. I tried. Maker, how I tried. But..."

"But what?"

"You mean the world to me. You really do. But I just don't love you like that."

"So where does that leave us, then?" Alistair asked.

"I don't know. I honestly don't know."

* * *

Back at the camp, Morrigan and The Warden looked for any sign of Alistair and Dyana's return. The hour was starting to get rather late but there were no indications the couple would be back any time soon. The witch soon lost interest in waiting and made herself ready to retire for the night, while her warden continued his vigil, looking out the front of their tent.

Morrigan, more interested in pursuing other endeavors, slid behind him and wrapped her arm around, gently stroking his chest. "Come, my love. They shall return when they feel the need. You should not let it trouble you." she said.

"I suppose you're right." he sighed.

"Of course I am." she returned, as if surprised that he would even consider that she was wrong.

"Do not let their troubles spoil our evening. Not when we have business of our own to attend to."

"And just what did you have in mind?" he asked as he turned to face her.

Her golden eyes shimmered in the light of the lamp, beckoning to him. She grabbed his hand and pulled him further into the tent, while she used her other hand to gently pull the cloth flap closed, shutting out the world outside.

She lead him to their warm, soft bedroll, onto which they both knelt, while he placed tender kisses on her lips. His arms wrapped themselves around her slender form and he pulled her closer to him as his kissing became more passionate. His mouth moved down her cheeks and neck. He pulled her top from her neck to expose her shoulders so that he could kiss down those as well. His lips drank of her body like it was a fine wine, indulging in her sweet taste while he deeply inhaled her scent. Her moans of pleasure and ecstasy only served to drive him on while his mouth continued its exploration of her.

With practiced skill, he raised her top over her head and casually flung it to the side so that his mouth and lips could trail their way to her flat stomach. The light tickling from his beard caused her belly to jump and squirm under his touch. Her hands found the back of his head and she pressed him closer to her while he kissed circles around her navel.

His mouth found her lips once more, and as he kissed her deeply, he gently lowered her down onto the bedroll. His thumbs hooked underneath her skirt and underwear and he slid them down in one swift and effortless motion. His mouth and hands then resumed their conquest of her now-naked body.

Moving down from her lips, he took each of her breasts in his hands and lightly squeezed them, while his tongue traced small circles around each nipple in turn, until they stood stiff and erect. Her chest heaved up and down and her moans grew louder while he worked his magic on her.

He took his hands and spread her thighs apart, revealing her center to him, and with his fingers, he lightly stroked through the soft curls as he traced up one side and then down the other, on either side of her moist folds. Her hips arched uncontrollably, urging his hand towards the hard little nub that hid within.

Unable to take the torture any longer, Morrigan's arms reached out and grabbed him as she pulled herself up, pressing him down to the bedroll at the same time so that she was now the one in control as she now lay over him. Her slender fingers began to peel away his clothes in a desperate bid to get at what lay beneath. She hastily ripped his shirt from him and pulled his pants from his waist, casting them carelessly to the side. Her eyes lit up as she spied her prize, which stood straight and proud only inches from her smiling lips.

She looked up at her warden and cast him a wicked glance to let him know that it was now his turn to be tortured. Her fingertips lightly trailed around his shaft, causing a shiver to run down him. She grasped it in her hand and gave a good stiff squeeze while her other hand gently cupped and fondled the sensitive sack beneath. A deep moan escaped him as her mouth replaced her hand, sliding down his entire length.

The witch gently sucked while her mouth slid up and down on him, the sensations driving him completely insane. Every so often, she would dive all the way down again and hold there, pressing him to the very back of her mouth, before resuming her insidious torture once more.

"Morrigan..." he moaned as she continued to swallow the entire length of him, "you better stop. I can't hold it much longer."

Upon hearing that, the witch immediately increased her tempo, doubling the sweet agony she was inflicting upon him. He tried to hold back with all his might, but his efforts proved futile as the witch's actions brought him up and over the edge. His fingers dug into the bedroll while Morrigan slid down on him forcefully one last time, causing him to erupt.

His head rolled back and his buttocks clenched tightly as she sucked every last drop out of him. He let out a long and loud moan as his muscles spasmed involuntarily. Afterward, he unclenched and his body fully relaxed into one drained heap.

"Thank you. That was great." he said with a content sigh.

Still gasping, he looked down to see his witch staring at him with an uneasy smile. After a few grimaces, her mouth finally opened and she took in a long breath of air.

"What have you been eating?" she asked, her face still scrunching up every few seconds.

"Why?"

"'Twas as if I had bitten a block of salt."

"That bad, eh?"

"You've no idea. Some prior warning would have been preferred."

"Prior warning? It's not like that's something I can control."

"That may be so. However, you've done something different. 'Tis not usually so strong."

"I haven't had any beer in a few days. Maybe that's it."

"Somehow, 'tis always about beer with you."

Soft rustling noises outside the tent quickly caught the attention of both The Warden and his witch. Morrigan dove underneath the bedroll in order to cover herself.

"'Tis someone outside." she whispered.

"I know." The Warden replied as he gathered his clothes, "I'll go take a look."

From outside the tent a muffled voice called, "Dwemer? Are you still awake?"

A knowing frown formed on the witch's lips when she recognized the voice, "Alistair," she grumbled, "I should have known."

"I'll be right out." The Warden called back as he slipped his clothes back on.

"Do not be long, my love. When you return, I intend for you to finish what you started."

"I'll be as fast as I can." he promised.

The Warden tossed the flap open and went outside the tent to find Alistair standing there with the most forlorn expression any man ever had. "Dyana and I talked." he said.

"And how did it go?"

"Sh...She left me." the king said, before bowing his head to hide the flood of tears that followed.

_Liked it? Hated it? Don't forget to click on the review button and let me know what you thought. And for even more fantastic stuff (including excellent drawings from the stories) join us at the Official OoA website (the link can be found on my profile)._


	4. Chapter 4

**Part IV**

Denerim, the largest and grandest city in all Ferelden and the seat of its government. Her many tall spires tower over the citizenry below as they go about the menial chores of their daily lives. Nowhere else in Ferelden can one find such a melting pot of cultures and societies. It is from this large port city that King Alistair Therin rules his country with the aid of his most trusted nobles and advisers. Chief among those is Arl Eamon Guerinn, the lord of Redcliffe.

It was Eamon who raised Alistair since he was a boy, and who, with The Warden, convinced Alistair to become king of Ferelden. Afterward, it was Eamon who guided the king throughout the despair and rebuilding in the wake of the Blight. And now, it is Eamon who impatiently awaits the king's return so that pressing matters of great political significance can finally be addressed.

The arl was locked inside his manor, pacing back and forth in his study while deep in thought. Alistair had come a long way since taking the throne, but his youth and inexperience could still be quite troubling at times. Eamon was constantly pressuring him to accept more responsibilities for his role, but usually these pleas fell on deaf ears.

Alistair would assure the arl that he had everything well in hand, often telling the elder statesman that he worried too much. The king felt that Eamon was too paranoid. "Evil doesn't lurk behind every bush. The people are content for once, and no one is trying to conspire against me." he would say.

But Eamon knew all too well that there was always someone trying to conspire. They would huddle in the dark corners of filthy taverns and construct mad their schemes, just waiting for the right moment to strike. And when they did, it was his job to make sure that Alistair was prepared to deal with the threat.

With the chaos in the northern bannorn, the arl feared that this was such a time. An inventive opportunist could use the unsettled situation to their advantage to gain the upper hand. It was his job to prevent that very thing from happening, especially after all he had worked for to get Alistair this far.

"My lord, I bring news!" cried one of the manor servants as he rushed into the study.

Eamon ceased his pacing and turned to face the young man, "You bring word from Bann Teagan?" he asked.

"I do." the servant replied, "Your brother reports that he and several other lords from the region have arrived in Denerim. They stand ready to support your cause."

"Excellent. With the Maker's grace, we may soon have this problem resolved quickly. Unless, of course, our good king feels the need to tarry longer."

"Forgive me, my lord, but can't you simply call the landsmeet without him?" the servant asked.

The arl gave a long, thoughtful sigh before answering, "If only it were as simple as that. However, Alistair's judgments on the matter at hand are the entire reason for calling the landsmeet. Only he can uphold the legitimacy of those who are making rightful claims to the lands."

"But, my lord, what of the nobles' heirs? Surely it would be far simpler to pass ownership to them."

"Of the nine lords who were lost at Highever, six of them had legitimate heirs to assume their places. Three, though, did not." Eamon explained, "And while it should be a simple enough matter for the king to verify the heirs' claims, the three regions who did not possess heirs could prove to be quite troubling. The governing families' claims may be disputed by any nearby lord who wishes to expand his borders. That, more than anything, is why the landsmeet has been called. Those disputes must be settled quickly and peacefully, before those involved begin to take up arms and decide to settle things for themselves."

"I understand, my lord."

"Good. Now, leave me. I have much to think on before the king's return. Inform me the instant you have any new word."

"Yes, my lord." the servant replied with a deep bow before exiting the study, leaving Eamon alone once more with his thoughts.

* * *

"Tell me what happened." The Warden said to his distraught friend as they both walked back over to the remnants of the fire and sat on the large log that lie next to it.

"What is there to tell?" Alistair replied as he shrugged his shoulders, "Dyana said she thinks we need some time apart. That it's _her_ and not me."

"Oh, Alistair. I'm sorry things didn't work out between you two. Not that it matters, but I thought you made a great couple."

"So did _I_. But apparently, she didn't feel the same way. She thinks we're both too young and inexperienced and she needs to spread her wings so she can find something more out of life; whatever the hell that's supposed to mean."

"It means, she's trying to tell you that she wants out without hurting your feelings."

"But they _are_ hurt. Dwemer, what am I supposed to do? Here I thought everything was fine between us. Then, out of nowhere, she hits me with this." Alistair said with more than a small amount of confused exasperation in his voice.

"It's never an easy thing to go through. Trust me, I've been there." The Warden consoled, giving Alistair a few pats on his shoulder for good measure.

"_You_? The great ladies man? I find that very hard to believe."

"Very funny. Yes, it's been known to happen to me a time or two."

"Name once."

"Alright." The Warden replied as he rubbed his chin, thinking, "do you remember Arl Redell?"

"Sure, what about him?"

"Well, I used to have this thing for his middle daughter, Aleena."

"The one with the red hair and cute freckles?"

"That's her."

"Really? So what happened between you two?"

"When I was quite a bit younger, about seventeen or eighteen, she and I started seeing each other quite a bit. It was the first time I had ever been in a serious relationship with anyone. She knocked me completely for a loop and I would have sworn I was in love. But then one day she just broke it off. She said she was bored and wanted to move on to something else."

"Just like that? That sounds fairly harsh. So what did you do?"

"There wasn't anything I could do, except feel hurt. I was depressed for weeks and didn't say a word to anyone. Fergus told me that I needed to get my head out of my arse and get over it. But that was always his way. My father, though, had a few better words of advice for me."

"He said to me, 'Son, I know you feel like your life is ruined and that you'll never feel this way again, but the main thing you need to understand is that you were never really in love with her in the first place'."

"Never really in love with her?" Alistair asked, "that seems like an odd bit of advice."

"I thought so too, but he explained that the only thing I loved was how she made me feel. That isn't true love. He told me that real love takes time and that's its more of an understanding than an emotion. But of course, I was too young and hard-headed to understand at the time."

Alistair's face frowned with confusion, "I'm afraid I don't understand it either..." he said.

"One day, you will. You probably won't even know it when it happens, either. You'll find a nice girl and something inside you will change. You'll find something that was never there before."

"That's not really any help. I _want_ Dyana, not some nice girl."

"Unfortunately, we can't always have what we want. I know that doesn't make you feel any better now, but maybe in time it will."

"I just wish I knew where it all went wrong. I thought we were perfect for each other."

"Sometimes it's the parts that don't seem to fit that go together best. Look at Morrigan and me, for instance."

"What about you?"

"To look at me and to see her, you'd never think we'd be were we are. We're complete opposites."

"I'll say. You're always playing the part of hero while she turns people into toads."

"For the record, Morrigan has never turned anyone into a toad. At least, not that I'm aware of."

"I wouldn't be surprised if she had. I've seen how she eyes me sometimes."

"Maybe she just thinks you have a cute backside."

Alistair cringed violently in his spot, exclaiming, "don't even joke about that! That's not funny! Now I'll be having nightmares for a week."

The Warden chuckled a bit, saying, "regardless. My point was is that sometimes you can't ever tell who you're going to wind up with."

"But I thought you said you knew Morrigan was the one the instant you saw her."

"I did. That happens, too. But it's not nearly as common I don't think."

"None of this makes any sense at all."

"Love is a confusing thing, my friend. Get used to it."

"A little too confusing, if you ask me."

"I hope I was able to help at least a little." The Warden said as he gave the king a few reassuring pats on the back, "if you're going to be alright, I'm going to head off to get some sleep. You should, too."

"You have helped, Dwemer, quite a bit. Thank you. At least I know I can still count on you."

"That's what I'm here for. Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"I'll be fine. You'd better go and get back to that witch of yours before she decides to turn _you_ into a toad."

And with a finale wave, The Warden headed back toward his tent and his witch who waited for him inside. He knew he was bound to get an earful from her, as he always did whenever their alone time was interrupted and he was forced to leave her for a while. But it was something he'd grown used to over the years they'd been together. A smile began to creep across his face as he thought about the scornful look she would give, along with a few choice words she direct at him. He was reminded of just how far he and the witch had come in their time together, which, given Alistair's situation, made him feel a bit guilty.

To his surprise, when he entered their tent, he found the witch still lying on their bedroll, but she was sound asleep. Morrigan failed to put any clothes back on after they were interrupted by Alsitair, and she lay naked, curled up in the thick heavy blanket which was twisted around part of her body. As usual, she was spread out over the entire surface of the bedroll, laying on her stomach and leaving little room for him to occupy. Her left leg lay across one side while her right was brought up, her knee bent slightly. The Warden shook his head and grinned as he spied her hand still resting between her legs. Evidently, in the witch's impatience for him to return, she had handled the matter herself and immediately passed out afterward.

He started to remove his clothes and climb back into the warm bedroll with his witch, trying to be as quiet as he possibly could. However, as he did, his shoulder accidentally bumped into the lantern, making a loud noise. Instantly, Morrigan's eyes popped open and she rose up with a startled jerk. Her golden eyes turned their gaze until they were fixed on him, forming into one of her familiar glares.

"So, you've returned at last." she said. "And how fares our distraught king?"

"He was pretty upset. But I think he'll be alright." The Warden replied as he continued to get undressed.

"I warned you this would happen, did I not? I told you he would fall hopelessly in love with the first woman who lays him."

"He'll learn from it. It's something everyone goes through."

"Not _everyone_, my love."

"You were the rare exception. But that always seems to be the case, doesn't it?"

"You say that as though you would have it any other way."

He slid into the bedroll next to and she snuggled against him, wrapping her arms around his chest. "Now, let us sleep. We're to return to Highever tomorrow so we shall need our rest."

"Sleep? Isn't there something else you'd rather do?"

"Silly man." the witch chuckled, "That has already be taken care of. You had your opportunity. I trust that in the future you shall not squander it again."

"Sleep well, my love." she said as she gave him a quick kiss before she rolled over, wrapping herself up in the blanket and leaving none for him, as usual.

* * *

The next morning, it was as if the clouds had decided to rest themselves by sitting down on the earth and thick mists rolled in on top of the mountains, obscuring their peaks from view. The tips of the fortress' towers were covered in the billowing fog that hung in the air as well. Even the forest, itself, was barely visible in the soupy morning air. The witch took this to be a bad omen of things to come, although with more annoyance than fear. She reasoned it was probably best to return to Highever as quickly as possible in order to avoid whatever troubles loomed ahead.

Dyana had already departed the night before, figuring it was probably best if she and Alistair didn't see each other for a while. She had taken her belongings and headed off into the night in search of whatever life had in store for her, leaving the king the unenviable task of picking up the pieces to his broken heart.

A dark and dreary cloud threatened to hang over the party as they packed up their things and headed back to Highever, but Morrigan, not being in the mood for having such glum companions, would have none of it. The witch informed Alistair that he needed to deal with what had happened and move on. No one could change the past, only the future could still be written by the actions taken in the present. She told the king that was were his mind needed to be. He needed to focus on the here and now rather than what could or should have been.

The Warden took a far more diplomatic approach to taking his friend's mind off his troubles. Rather than explain to Alistair where he'd gone wrong or what he should do about it, he instead engaged the king in conversation to distract him from his thoughts. The topics ranged from old adventures to people and places they'd each known and more. At one point, it occurred to The Warden to ask Alistair about the letter he'd found while exploring the tunnels beneath West Hill, hoping that the small scrap of paper and the connections it made to Alistair's family would at least make him feel a bit better. Although, The Warden did have to give the conversation a good kick before Alistair's gloomy mood threatened to stifle it altogether.

"Do you still have the letter you found?" The Warden asked.

"The letter? What letter?" a despondent Alistair replied, only half paying attention.

"The one you found in the fortress, you big dolt. You didn't forget about it already did you?"

"Oh, right. I still have it."

"Well? Have you even looked at it, yet?"

"A little."

"Only a little? I'd think after all the fuss you made about finding it you'd be thrilled to read it."

"I've skimmed over it some. I really haven't had a chance to read it completely."

"Maybe you should find the time." The Warden suggested.

"I just don't really feel like it right now."

"Why not? You've found an actual letter sent by the spy who betrayed your father, and even with all of that, Maric was still able to do what he did. If anything, don't you think that letter proves what a great man he really was?"

"Maybe..."

"Maybe what? If it was me, I would have already read it a thousand times."

"It's not like I haven't even looked at it. I did read parts of it." Alistair said, "as a matter of fact, there was something about the letter that struck me as a bit odd."

"Really? What was that?"

"From what I can tell, the spy was a woman named Katriel. But from the tone of certain parts, it almost seemed like she had some sort of feelings for my father. I can't be totally sure, though, until I've read all of it. When I get back to Denerim, I plan on having some local historians take a look at it and verify if it's real or not. Maybe they'll be able to help me figure out what it all means."

"When we get to Denerim, I think that's a good idea."

"_We_?" the king asked, shooting a sharp glance at The Warden, "so you've decided to come back with me, then?"

"I can't let you go to the landsmeet all on your own. Those lords will eat you alive." The Warden replied with a smirk.

"Thanks, Dwemer. I appreciate all the help I can get."

"And so, yet another pointless adventure commences." the witch quipped in disgust from her spot behind her warden.

The Warden looked back over his shoulder and cast Morrigan a reassuring glance that said, i_t won't that bad. You'll see. We'll be back home before you know it._

The witch responded with a look of her own that seemed to say, _'tis always 'that bad', my love. Mark my words, 'tis a decision you shall soon regret making._

By the end of the day, the party had made its way back to Highever, riding their horses through the large gates of Castle Cousland and up into the main courtyard as the guards cried out, heralding the arrival of the king and The Grey Warden. Within moments, the large main doors swung open and Teyrn Fergus emerged, making his way down the steps to greet his brother and the king. Following just behind was Seth, who was anxious to see his parents, but his stubby legs were having a bit of difficulty with the stairs as he slowly hopped down from one step to the next.

"Mutha! Da!" the child squealed when his tiny feet finally touched the ground and he ran to them.

The Warden scooped his son up in his arms, saying "There's my big man! Were you behaved for your uncle while we were away?"

"Behaved?" Fergus scoffed, cocking his head, "That little scoundrel had me running all over the castle after him."

"That's my boy!" The Warden replied as he mussed the small child's hair.

"Seth, what were you told about your uncle?" Morrigan scolded.

The child looked up at his mother and dutifully answered, "Don't make faces when he's lookin'?" which brought a good chuckle to everyone, including the witch.

"How like your father you are." she said.

"Isn't there someone missing?" Fergus asked, finally noticing Dyana's absence.

"Uhm...yeah. Dyana won't be going with us to Denerim." The Warden answered, giving his brother a look that urged him to drop the subject.

"Really? What happened?" they teyrn continued, cluelessly ignoring his brother.

"I don't want to talk about it." Alistair grumbled.

"Ahh. I see." Fergus said when he at last understood, "Well, in case you're interested, you're rooms have all been prepared for you and you're men, and the chefs have gotten supper ready. After a filling meal and a good night's rest, we cant head to Dernim in the morning."

Turning to The Warden, Fergus asked, "I expect you and Morrigan will want your old quarters?"

"Thanks, but no, Fergus. Morrigan and I are going to go on home to the cottage for the night. We'll meet up with you along the way tomorrow." The Warden answered as he helped Morrigan climb back onto the horse and handed Seth to her.

"Are you sure I can't talk you into staying?"

"It's only a short distance. There's no real need. Besides, it will allow us to get ready faster in the morning and be ready by the time you get there." The Warden explained while he mounted his steed.

"Fine. Have it your way. Until tomorrow, then."

"Until tomorrow."

_Liked it? Hated it? Don't forget to click on the review button and let me know what you thought. And for even more fantastic stuff (including excellent drawings from the stories) join us at the Official OoA website (the link can be found on my profile)._


	5. Chapter 5

**Part V**

The darkness inside the cottage was broken by the flicker of one tiny flame. As the witch touched her finger to the lamp, it came to life, and its warm glow filled the entire room. She and her warden, weary from the day's travel, set about placing their son, who was already fast asleep, in his tiny bed before returning to the den for a few minutes of rest before they, too, made ready to retire for the night.

The holiday hadn't exactly gone as planned. What was meant to be a relaxing trip had turned into a stress filled and uncomfortable affair. Alistair's ill-timed proposal to Dyana served only to expose the cracks in their relationship that, apparently, only she was aware of. The Warden, in his efforts to help his friend, agreed to journey to Denerim for the landsmeet and offer his support, which irked Morrigan very much. Even at this late hour, her frustration with his decision hadn't abated as she huffed and stomped about the cottage, still very much visibly perturbed.

All The Warden wanted to do was rest his aching back and recline in his large chair in front of the fireplace, which wasn't even lit. However, Morrigan's not so subtle attempts to show her displeasure made him unable to do so. She fussed and grumbled with every step she took while unpacking her belongings.

With a long sigh, The Warden looked up at her as she passed by him and said, "Morrigan, please. I know you're angry. I get that."

"Angry?" she scoffed, "what possible reason could there be for me to be angry?"

"Don't do this right now. I'm too tired to fight with you."

"_You _are too tired? Oh, do forgive me for intruding upon your tranquility. Had I known my actions would bring you such displeasure, I would have stayed in my dark corner and said nothing. After all, 'tis where you prefer me to be, is it not? The obedient and ever compliant wife who says nothing?"

"That is completely absurd, and you know it. Why would you even say something like that?"

"Is it? You know full well that I am pregnant, yet 'tis something _you_ choose to ignore, and instead, jump head first into whatever dangers Alistair needs you to save him from, despite the fact that I objected."

"Dangers? What dangers? The object here is to stifle any chance of danger before it can happen. That's the whole reason I agreed to go with him." The Warden tried to explain, becoming more exasperated with each second.

"You are a terrible liar. Admit it. You agreed because you felt sorry for him, and, more importantly, you find this life boring and are in need of a distraction." the witch shot back, eying him with a cold glare.

"I admit that I did feel badly for Alistair, yes. But I don't think being here with you is boring at all. Far from it."

Morrigan's golden eyes softened and her stare went from one of annoyance to one of concern, "then how can you be so anxious to pick up your blades again?" she asked.

"That's what this is really about, isn't it? You're afraid that I'd rather be off on some grand adventure than here with you."

"Dwemer...you are aware 'tis not easy for me...to express my feelings concerning you. I've no tongue for it." she said softly, "when you and I first met, I felt in you something different, something special that I am still not able to fully understand. Part of the reason I left after you had slain the archdemon was that these feelings you instilled inside me were so terrifying. I was not prepared for the affect you had on me. 'Twas easier to leave than to be made to face them. And when you found me, I at last understood that I would never be able to escape them. I _needed_ you, and I still do."

"Morrigan..."

"Please, allow me to finish." the witch interrupted, placing her finger against his lips, "Our life together has not been any easy one. We've struggled to find a place of our own in this world. And through everything, you've been accepting of my nature and who I am."

"In my life, I had often wondered if there was anyone who could love a creature such as I."

"I didn't know that. Love was never high on your list of things to do, if I recall."

"'Tis true. My regards for love as a weakness prevented me from such frivolous endeavors. However, even I still entertained the thought from time to time. I would consider what all my power had gained me, and even though I made no mention of it, I felt the idea of having no one to mourn my passing to be somewhat...disturbing. It seemed a cold and lonely fate, yet one I was fully willing to accept."

His hand gently stroked her cheek, trying to soothe her, "but there's nothing for you to worry about." he assured. "I wouldn't rather be any place but here...with you. You and our family are what's important to me."

"'Tis good to know." she replied as she grabbed his hand in hers and held it tightly, "we have been through so much. We have earned our time together. You know how selfish I can be. I've no wish to share you with the world, nor should I be made to do so."

"I promise, it won't be that bad. A few boring days of standing around and listening to lords bicker with each other. I've been around this sort of thing all my life. It's nothing major. I won't even be taking my swords and armor. I won't need them."

"That is an unwise decision, my love. I fear there is a greater threat that you are unaware of."

"I think you're just afraid that something bad will happen and our life will be postponed again. But I'm telling you everything will be just fine. You have to trust me, Morrigan."

The Warden knew his words were more than likely falling on deaf ears. After all, the witch did have good reason to doubt that they would have any peaceful time together. On more than one occasion he promised to forever lay down his blades and retire with her to a life free from the constant interruption of life threatening danger, and each time he was unable to keep his word as some new threat to Ferelden and its people loomed.

"And if something were to happen to you while you are away, how would I know?" she asked.

"Because you and Seth are coming, too." he replied, "You _are_ pregnant and I'm not about to leave you here by yourself."

"So you would drag us along with you to this infernal landsmeet? And if I do not wish to go, what then?"

"Well...you could stay here by yourself I suppose; alone in this dark cottage with no one to snuggle up against on a cold night. Although, we do have plenty of oil so I'm sure you could keep the lamps burning for a while."

The witch's eyes formed into another deep scowl, "Impossible man. Why I even bother with you escapes me." she grumbled.

A smile stretched across The Warden's face, "because you're madly in love with me." he said.

"Do not press your luck. I'm in no mood for your adolescent behavior."

Morrigan hated to be forced into these sorts of situations. On one hand, she had no desire to travel all the way to Denerim, and still less to have to spend her time at the palace while her warden was away at the landsmeet. But the prospect of being left alone at their cottage she found even less appealing. Not that she minded the privacy being left behind would afford, but she's grown fond of her husband's presence whenever she did desire it, which was far more often than she was ever going to admit. If he wasn't there, however, that familiar aching feeling would soon develop in her gut as she longed for his return. It always happened when they were apart and she would start to miss him greatly. In the end, she would wind up hating herself for the weakness, and to make things worse, she knew he could feel her every emotion, thanks to that wretched connect of his to her. Someday, she thought to herself, she needed to find a way to sever that connection, or make it work both ways, at the very least.

"Have it your way." she quipped, "I shall accompany you to Denerim. Though I urge you to be mindful of that which I carry within me. 'Tis probably not best for me to be jostled constantly upon your horse."

"Would you rather I carry you? Because I would, you know."

"I am aware of that, as you have demonstrated in the past." Morrigan said before pausing briefly, a sly grin forming across her lips, "admittedly, however, the idea of making you into my steed does have some appeal. 'Tis not everyone who can say they've ridden the great Grey Warden. Perhaps I shall bring a riding crop."

"No thanks. Knowing you, you'd use it...often." he replied, "maybe I need to bring my armor after all."

* * *

The next morning, Fergus, Alistair, and all their men, arrived at the cottage as expected, ready to leave for Denerim. The Warden once again made use of the cart he'd purchased outside the gates of Orzammar a few years ago, which he'd brought back with him from Denerim on his last visit to the royal palace, and hitched his horse to it while Morrigan and Seth climbed aboard for the long journey eastward. Leo jumped around excitedly barking as he followed, anxious to begin the trip that would last several days.

The group was in no hurry to get to their destination, mostly because of The Warden, due to Morrigan's condition, which he still hadn't mentioned to anyone yet, but also partly because of Alistair. While he may have been king, attending political functions such as a landsmeet were the worst kind of torture he could imagine. Even the departure of his beloved Dyana did little to raise his enthusiasm for the event. He found it far preferable to wallow in his own self pity than to have to deal with the lords who would be there expecting him to rule on the future of the northern bannorn.

The Warden and Ferugs did what they could to keep Alistair's spirits up, but usually with little or no affect. It seemed the king was determined to be gloomy no matter what. And while Morrigan said nothing on the matter, she secretly felt just a tiny bit bad for him, although she never gave any sign of it, continuing instead to outwardly show nothing but annoyance and disdain for the entire situation. But from time to time she would catch her warden staring at her with that silly grin of his. He knew what she felt. He always knew.

The witch would return his grin with a cold, hard glare of her own that said, _If you make any mention of this to anyone, I shall grind up your testicles and feed them to the dog_.

He would only smile, shake his head, and gave her a look of his own that seemed to say, _Don't worry, you're secret is safe with me_.

After nearly three days had passed, the group found themselves at last passing through the large gates into Denerim, coming in off the west road. They rode down the main avenue and into the heart of the city. The citizens on the streets stopped in their tracks and bowed deeply as the procession passed before resuming their activities as if nothing happened.

The sounds of the hustle and bustle of the city permeated the air around The sights and smells the city had to offer were quite unlike anything else in all Ferelden. As the party passed through the busy Market District on their way to the palace, the blacksmith's hammer could be heard clanking as he toiled in his forge. Shouts of street vendors called out, advertising their wares while they attempted to entice passersby into stopping at their carts to inspect their goods. Puffs and wisps of smoke rose from countless black stovepipes and chimneys that poked out of the tops of nearly every building.

Suddenly, from just off the main center of the market square, a commotion could be heard. The members of the group looked up to see the door of the Gnawed Noble Tavern being knocked open and a man come flying out, landing on his backside in the middle of the dusty street. Before long, he was joined by another man who also came soaring out the door, colliding with the first man and knocking him back down as he tried to stand. Both men quickly jumped up, and with yells of anger, rushed back into the tavern on the attack.

Alistair let out a sigh, "We'd better go see what that's all about." he said, and he guided his steed over in the direction of the tavern, followed by his men.

"We've not been in Demerim for more than five minutes and already there is trouble." Morrigan huffed as she folded her arms.

As they approached the tavern, the two men were coming back out, only this time they were not alone. Between them they dragged a young woman who was violently kicking and screaming at them.

"Leave me be!" the woman yelled, as she continued to kick and struggle with the men.

"You're a bloody witch, you are!" one of the men shouted back, "we'll show you how we deal with your kind!"

The woman was able to wrestle one of her hands free, which she used to punch the man holding her other arm in his groin, causing him to let out a surprised "oof!" as he doubled over in pain.

Raising her now free hands, she shot blasts of water from her palms, knocking the two men back and soaking them to the bone. They shielded themselves as best they could from the oncoming deluge being forced upon them, but it did little good.

"What's going on here?" Alistair asked with a very authoritative voice as he dismounted and hopped down from his horse.

Instantly the flow of water ceased and the woman spun around to see Alistair standing behind her, and for the first time, he was able to get a good look at her. She was a slender and very petite thing, only about the same size as a dalish female, but her ears were not pointed. Her tannish-brown hair was long and hung to her lower back. On her face she bore scars under each eye that ran down her cheeks like some odd markings, and even though her eyes were closed, it was as if she could still see perfectly.

She puffed and panted, still very much upset, "who are you?" she asked.

"King Alistair!" one of the men gasped as he and his companion quickly fell to one knee.

Alistair cocked his head to the side and looked at the curious girl before him, "you're not from around here, are you?" he asked.

"I've only been in Denerim for a couple of days. I'm Nevarran, but I've been in Ferelden for a few years."

"Neverran? Just splendid. Another witch from the wilds."

The woman's boot came up and she swiftly kicked Alistair's shin, shouting "I'm not a witch!"

"_Yeow_!" Alistair cried out as he hopped up and down, grabbing his aching shin.

"Oh, I _like_ her." Morrigan said, grinning wickedly.

In a flash, ten steel blades were drawn and aimed directly at the small woman. "No, that won't be necessary." Alistair said as he waved his man back.

"You've got some stones, that's for certain. What's your name?"

"Edalweiss."

"Well, Edalweiss, around here we don't go kicking people for no reason."

"It wasn't for no reason! You called me a witch!"

The Warden turned his attention to the two men still kneeling, "you two can go now. Next time you might want to be more careful about who you choose to pick on."

"And who are you to tell us what to do?" the second man asked.

"Don't be daft!" The first man said to his companion, giving him a whack on the back of the head for good measure, "that's The Grey Warden! Are you trying to get us killed?"

"_The_ Grey Warden? Oh, my apologies, my lord. I meant no insult."

"None taken. But I think it's best if you leave..._now_."

The two men rose from their spots and quickly scampered off down the street before disappearing around a corner.

"Hey!" Edalweiss shouted, "you're just going to let them go?"

"From the look of it, _you_ were the one causing all the trouble." Alistair said, "count yourself lucky that I don't have my men haul you off in chains."

Edalweiss became so flabbergasted she could barely form words, "m...me? _They_ were the ones who started it!"

"Not from what I could see."

"Well, what do you know, anyway? You're just a big jerkface!"

Alistair turned to The Warden, "is it just me, or are the people here getting weirder all the time?" he asked, which was followed by another cry of pain as he felt a small foot kick hard into his shin once again. "_Ow_!" he cried out.

"Makers breath! Stop kicking me!" Alistair yelled loudly.

"Stop being such a jerkface!" Edalweiss yelled back.

"Now see here, if you don't settle down, I've half a mind to arrest you."

"Half a mind is right! Jerkface!"

"That's it! I've heard enough out of you!" Alistair said as he gestured to his men, "Take her into custody. We'll see if that won't shut her up."

The knights closed in around the small woman, encircling her. They held out their weapons and began to close in, but before they could get close enough to grab her, the ground beneath their feet started to shake violently. The men had trouble standing and began to topple over, one by one. Alistair stumbled about before he was finally able to grab one of the poles that held up a porch covering a shop entrance. Even The Warden was forced to grab hold of his cart for support.

After about thirty seconds, the shaking finally abated, and the king slowly released his tight grip on the pole, as if to test whether the shaking had stopped for good. His men were able to climb back to their feet, rubbing their aches and bruises, but otherwise no worse for wear. But in the commotion, Edalweiss had made a discreet exit and was nowhere to be seen.

"Blast!" Alistair fumed, "the little witch got away."

"I've a feeling we've not seen the last of her." Morrigan noted.

"For her sake, she better hope I don't ever see her again." the king replied.

A few buildings down the street, Edalwiess was hidden around the corner, pressing her small form flat against the wall in an effort to remain hidden from view. Beside her, a head poked from out of the wall. The head was connected to a fish-like creature some two feet in length which slithered out and hovered in the air beside the small woman.

It made a few soft gurgles as Edawiess gently pet it, saying, "Good job, Muiren. What would I do without you?"

* * *

Word reached Arl Eamon that King Alistair had finally come back from his holiday and that he and his men had just arrived at the palace. Relief swept through the arl as he rapidly made his way through the palace to the main hall in order to greet the king. The sentries posted on either side of the large door bowed deeply as Eamon walked between them and into the hall. The arl didn't know whether he was more relieved that Alistair was back, or upset that the king had chosen such a time to run off in the first place.

"Alistair! Thank the Maker you've returned. And I see you've brought some much needed allies." he said when he saw the king and his guests.

"Teyrn Fergus, Warden, it is a pleasure to see both of you again."

"It's good to see you again, as well, Arl Eamon." The Warden replied, reaching out his hand to give the arl a hearty handshake.

"Now that all of you are here, we can commence the landsmeet at once."

"Not just yet. I have a small matter that I need to tend to first." Alistair said.

"Surely it can wait until after our business is concluded." the arl replied, his face showing clear signs of losing patience with the king, "we have pressing matters that must be attended to immediately, your majesty."

"It won't take long, I promise. While I was at West Hill, I found a letter that I want to have examined."

"A letter? What sort of letter?"

"It's from the spy who betrayed my father. It might help me shed some light onto what really happened to him there."

"Surely, your majesty can have one of the servants handle that for you. Time is of the essence."

"I don't see what the big hurry is. It's not like the land is going anywhere."

"That may be so, but the lords' squabbles are becoming more vocal with each passing moment, Alistair. Especially Arl Bryland. You need to act before they start fighting among themselves."

"Bryland? Why should he care? His lands aren't an issue here. His territory is South Reach."

"That is true. However, ever since Lothering was lost to the darkspawn, he's been anxious to expand his lands for strategic and economic reasons. He is a cunning politician who can sway many lords to his side. I fear he has aspirations, your majesty."

"But most of the northern bannorn falls under Teyrn Fergus' control. The lords there are loyal to him."

"Not if Bryland can have his way. He seeks to install those who are faithful to his cause in the three regions under dispute. If that was to happen, it could create a power struggle between Highever and South Reach. So you see the urgency of the situation."

"Very well. I'll have one of the servants deliver the letter to brother Cantarus over at the chantry. Inform the lords that the landsmeet commences first thing in the morning."

"Very good, your majesty. It shall be done." Eamon said, giving a satisfied nod.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Part VI**

The landsmeet was a spectacle like nothing else. It was one of the only occasions when all of the nobility in Ferelden could be found gathered in the same place at the same time. These gatherings were rarely called, and were usually saved for the most dire of political circumstances. Because every lord, bann, arl, and teyrn in the land was collected together, the security was taken to extreme levels, lest any outside forces should decided to try to eliminate Ferelden's most important houses in one stroke. It was a great risk and a logistical nightmare to bring them all together in one place, but sometimes those risks were warranted. This was such a time.

The northern bannorn had been in an upheaval ever since nine of its lords were lost defending Highever from the Order of Bohlen, when that religious cult attempted a takeover of Ferelden by invading the northern coast with a large army. Among those lost were three nobles who had no heirs, Banns Thailenari and Alfstanna, along with Arl Kotecki. It was the Order's intent to cause chaos and disarray among the lords, who would be too busy fighting with each other over the now-lordless lands than mount any real opposition. And for the most part, that plan worked.

In the months that followed, neighboring nobles vied to fill the void left by the fallen lords, with each professing to have a valid claim on the territories in question. Petty squabbles soon turned into outright arguments over control, and in time, these arguments would more than likely lead those involved to take up arms against one another. Ferelden had just seen five of the bloodiest years in its history, Arl Eamon had no wish to see any more, so he urged the king to call the landsmeet to settle the matter once and for all. Alistair agreed and had the word spread to all the nobles to come to Denerim and meet there so that he could rule on the matter. But, as the king was about to find out, sometimes even the best intentions can co horribly wrong.

All the lords were gathered together in the great main hall of the royal palace. As was the norm, these lords congregated together in their usual clicks based on their allegiances and loyalties, forming up into several groups around the room. King Alistair sat on his throne at the head of the chamber with Arl Eamon to his left and Teyrn Fergus to his right. Off to the side stood The Grey Warden, and although he held no official position, his popularity with the people of Ferelden would possibly provide the greatest influence of all at the proceedings. Few lords, if any, had the stones to go against his wishes.

Together, the four men comprised the largest and most powerful faction in Ferelden politics. Thus ensuring any ruling that Alistair made would have little trouble being accepted, whether it was favorable or not.

"I hereby call this landsmeet to order!" Alistair shouted out in a very authoritarian tone, "those of you who have business step forward and present it so that way may begin."

A large group of people approached the throne and bowed deeply in unison. These were the lords affected by the loss of the banns and who sought Alistair's rulings. They were comprised of people from all nine affected regions. The king, of course, knew who most of these people were and called each closer so that they may have their audience with him and state their case.

The first six such dealings went by rather smoothly, as it was relatively easy for Alistair to validate the claims of each household and give his approval to them. In short order, the six territories whose nobles had heirs were quickly assigned their new banns to oversee them, which would go far to stabilize the region. It was when the delegations representing the opposing parties for the seventh territory began to state their cases that things started to get a bit murky, as Eamon feared they might.

These were once the lands of Bann Thailenari, one of the most respected nobles in the country. He and his men were among the first to fall at Highever. He was the Bann of Vulshire, which was located about halfway between Highever and Denerim along the main western road. The small town served as a central hub for traders heading east and west, as well as those who traveled south. As such, it held both significant strategic and economic importance. Whoever controlled Vulshire could dictate trade with all parts of Ferelden.

Thailenari's family had representatives present to argue their rights to the ownership of the bannorn, but without a direct heir, claims could be made by other lords for it as well. Alistair very much wanted to keep Vulshire in the hands of the family that had ruled there for generations, but as Eamon suspected, Arl Bryland wasn't going to make it so simple, as he had representatives who were loyal to his cause as well.

Alistair felt that Lady Eustana Thailenari, the younger sister of the deceased bann, had the strongest case for assuming the duties as bann over Vulshire, but, like her brother, she had no offspring of her own. She did, however, have a cousin, Olaif Thailenari, who could act as a successor if anything was to happen to her, but he was still very young, so that option did not come without its risks.

Then there was Matias Culthbert, brother-in-law to Arl Bryland. He was married to the arl's sister and the two of them had three children together. Also, Culthbert was a powerful and respected lord who had lived near Vulshire nearly his entire life, so he was readily familiar with its people and the surrounding country. Because of these facts, his claim to the bannorn could not be easily dismissed.

As much as Alistair wanted to rule in favor of Lady Eustana, he couldn't without listening to arguments from both sides first. To do so would cause him to lose respect with the other lords and nobles and only serve to undermine his position. Being king was more about gathering allies than it was a position of power. Such was the way of Ferelden politics.

"Your majesty," Lady Eustana began, "my family has been the caretakers of Vulshire for many generations. We have turned a quaint little village into a strong economic center; the envy of all Ferelden. In the tragic wake of my brother's passing we feel that there simply is no other alternative than for the Thailenari name to continue to oversee this vital center of commerce and trade. It is our birthright to do so. To rule otherwise would simply be illogical."

"I'm afraid I must disagree, your majesty." Lord Matias spoke up, "While it is known that the honorable Thailenari family has ruled Vulshire with both wisdom and justice, the matter is not so simple as Lady Eustana makes it out to be."

" Tell me, my lady, how long has it been since you've even set foot in the town of your birth? Years? Far too long, I'm afraid, to be in touch with the people and their needs. I, other the other hand, have worked closely with the bann and served as an advisor to him on many occasions. I know the region and its people. I alone, would be the obvious choice to continue on with the bann's vision."

"That's preposterous!" Lady Eustana exclaimed, "you are not a member of the Thailenari family. What possible claim could you have?"

"That is true, my lady. I am not a member of your esteemed household. However, I feel I would be the best choice to replace your honored brother. I knew him and served him, I have lived in Vulshire nearly my entire life and know the area well, and, perhaps most importantly, I have something you do not: A direct heir. Something that would ensure stability in the region for many years to come. And, as I'm sure your majesty is aware of, in times of great need it has been known for lands to pass from one house to another. Teyrn Fergus and The Warden, themselves, being the beneficiaries of such a change when their ancestor, Sarim Cousland, was awarded control of the Highever bannorn after the untimely death of Connobar Elstan."

"You are aware, Lord Culthbert, that I was raised in the area. I am no stranger to it. And I am not so old that I am unable to still bear children. Besides, you are forgetting my uncle's eldest. He would serve as an heir if I were to have no children." Lady Eustana rebuffed, "Bann Elstan was a peculiar case. He was the last surviving member of his family. I'm certain your majesty agrees that no such change is warranted here."

"I've heard enough." Alistair said, waving his hand through the air, "Lord Culthbert, you provide an interesting argument, to say the least. But I'm afraid there just isn't enough cause to validate me turning Vulshire over to you. I'm going to uphold Lady Eustana's claim to the bannorn. Congratulations, _Bann_ Eustana."

"Thank you, your majesty. Your faith in me will not go unrewarded." Eustana said with a deep bow.

"I feel your majesty is making a grave mistake." Culthnert grumbled, "I strongly urge you to reconsider."

"My decision is final." Alistair replied flatly, ending the argument for good. "We will adjourn for the day and reconvene first thing in the morning, when I'll hear further on the matter of the Waking Sea bannorn."

The large group of lords and nobles dispersed, clearing the room and leaving Alistair alone with Fergus, Eamon, and The Warden. The king rose from his throne and stretched from side to side while cracking and popping sounds were heard coming from his back.

"Maker, that thing is bloody uncomfortable. I think it was meant to be a torture device." Alistair said, "my back is killing me."

"You did well, Alistair." Eamon noted, "you showed decisiveness and reason. The lords will have little trouble respecting your wishes. Granting Culthert control over Vulshire would surely have given Bryland a secure foothold in the north. The last thing Ferelden needs after so much tragedy is more power struggles. The people deserve some peace."

"Thank you, Arl Eamon. That means a great deal to me." Alistair replied.

"This isn't finished yet, I fear. Bryland will no doubt make his play for the Waking Sea bannorn, so you had best get some rest."

"Rest...that sounds like a wonderful idea."

"I need to go check on Morrigan." The Warden said, "Seth is probably driving her mad. She'll need some rest of her own."

Fergus smiled and chuckled, "yes, you certainly wouldn't want her to start cracking that whip of hers, now would you?"

"I know I can always leave it to you, Fergus, to start talking out your arse."

"We'll see how smug you are when you're staring down one of her glares."

The Warden rolled his eyes and shook his head at his brother, and with a wave to the others, he made his way from the main hall and headed back towards he and Morrigan's quarters, which were in the rear of the palace. He expected that she would be more than ready for him to take a long turn watching Seth so that she could get some rest of her own.

Ever since her disastrous first stay in the royal palace, Morrigan had preferred to choose quarters in the back of the main building, far from the wooden door that led down to the dungeons below. But every once in a while she would be forced to pass by that door, and she always eyed it with a cold glare while bad memories surfaced and her blood would start to boil.

Before The Warden rounded the last turn near his quarters, the sound of gleeful squealing filled The Warden's ears, followed by the sound of tiny bare feet slapping down on hard stone echoing through the hallways. The Warden stopped where he was and waited for the tiny streaker to come barreling around the corner. Seth turned the corner and ran straight into his father's waiting arms, giggling and cackling like some mad little goblin.

"Where are your clothes?" The Warden asked, casting his son a very fatherly stare, "and you're soaking wet!"

Seth only giggled more and pointed back down the corridor towards Morrigan, who stomped towards the pair with an angry grimace etched into her face. In her hands she held the child's clothes and over her shoulder a large white towel was slung.

"I had no sooner gotten him out of his bath when _your_ son decided he wanted to run off." she huffed.

"Why is he always my son when he does something you don't like?"

"Come, Seth. I've had enough of your foolishness for one day." the witch said as she hoisted the boy out of The Warden's arms while he continued to giggle and laugh.

"How like your father." the witch sighed, turning on her heels and heading back towards she and her warden's chambers, followed closely by The Warden.

Once inside, Seth was actually compliant enough to allow Morrigan to both dry and clothe him. Though, when he was almost dressed he began to impatiently fidget and wiggle in his place. His patience was soon rewarded, however, and the witch turned him loose. He immediately sprang up from his spot and raced away, acting as if something important required is attention. In this instance, he was focused on Leo, who was resting on the floor and didn't seem to want to be disturbed. That did little to stop the child, though, as he merrily called to the beast, urging the mabari to come and play.

While their son was suitably distracted for at least a few minutes, Morrigan and her warden had time to properly greet one another, which they did with a kiss and a tight embrace.

"I missed you today." he said to her.

"I am aware that I shall probably regret asking," she replied, "but I find myself curious as to the progress of the landsmeet. Did all go smoothly?"

"As smooth as can be expected. Alistair is really starting to act like a king."

"Is that so? And what of you? Were you called upon to dispatch any would-be dissenters?"

"Not at all. I stood there like a statue all day." he answered while plopping down into a comfortable chair.

"My feet are killing me."he said as he pulled his boots off, making a long _ahh_ sound in relief.

"Am I to expect more of the same tomorrow, or has your business been concluded?"

"It'll take at least another day, probably more."

A disappointed look crossed the witch's face, "I see."she said, "That being the case, I believe I shall take Seth into the market tomorrow."

"What for? You have your eye on some pretty little dress or maybe some new shoes?" he teased with a wry grin.

"Do not mock me. You know I've no interest in such things. However, I would rather like to visit 'The Wonders of Thedas' while the opportunity presents itself."

"Ah, the magic shop. I should have known. How much is _that_ going to cost me?"

"So coin is now a concern, is it? I thought we had gotten beyond such trivial annoyances."

"I didn't bring every sovereign we have with us, and I know you have expensive tastes."

"'The Wonders of Thedas' carries only the best wares." the witch quipped, "Do I not deserve the very best? Cost should be of no relevance."

The Warden grumbled, "of course you deserve the best." he said as he undid his money purse from his belt and handed it to Morrigan. "Just try to leave me some coin. I would like to be able to get something to eat, at least."

"Thank you, my sweet." the witch replied with a chipper voice, bending over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

"See? I told you there was nothing to worry about. In a couple of days this will all be finished and we can head back home."

"I would not be so quick to dismiss the potential for danger, were I you. As you, yourself, have noted, your business is far from concluded."

"Everything will be fine. You'll see."

"It had better be."

* * *

The next morning, Alistair was in his study getting ready for another long day of the landsmeet. These sorts of dealings usually left Alistair mentally drained and exhausted, and he looked forward to them with the same amount of anticipation as someone who was about to be drawn and quartered. Recently, he'd become accustomed to being able to lean on Dyana for support, both before and after such an ordeal. But she was no longer there. She had gone off to find whatever her life had in store for her, leaving him behind to deal with everything on his own. And so far, he felt he was doing horribly at it.

Sure, he put on a brave face in front of the others and his subjects, but inside he felt empty and hollow. He felt as if he were just going through the motions of being king. He knew enough, however, to know that was a terribly risky way to act for someone in his position. He knew that no matter how rotten he felt inside, he still had a job to do and that people all over Ferelden were counting on him to make the proper decisions. So he paced in his study, trying to will himself the strength to make it through another day, and not having much luck. All he could think about was Dyana. Little could he know all of that was about to change, for events that were about to turn his entire life upside down had been set into motion, like dominoes falling against each other. And, unwittingly, he, himself, had been the one to start it.

"Alistair, we need to talk." Eamon said as he burst into the room with a look of great apprehension on his face.

"Good morning, Arl Eamon." Alistair replied as if he barely noticed the arl's entrance; continuing his pacing while his mind wandered elsewhere.

"Alistair, listen to me. This is urgent." Eamon implored, grabbing the king's shoulder in order to gain his full attention.

"What's so important? Can't it wait until after the landsmeet?"

"That letter you found, did you actually take the time to read it?"

"I read _through_ it...mostly anyway." Alistair replied, "Why?"

"I just met with Brother Cantarus from the chantry and he tells me something very troubling about it."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll keep until after the landsmeet. The lords are already assembled in the main hall by now and I better not keep them waiting. We can discuss it afterward." Alistair said as he shrugged off Eamon's concerns and headed out of the room on his way to the main hall.

"Damn fool boy!" Eamon fumed while he chased after Alistair, "He will be the death of me yet!"

As Alistair had predicted, the nobles were already assembled in the large main hall, ready to begin another day of hearings. As the king walked down the middle aisle between them, he caught a glimpse of Arl Bryland, whose face bore a smug look of satisfaction. Something felt a bit out of place, though Alistair was unable to put his finger on what it might be.

When the king reached his throne, he lowered himself on it and said loudly, "This landsmeet has hereby commenced. Those of you who have business, step forward."

Almost immediately, Arl Bryland moved to the front and stood before Alistair, still wearing his smug grin. "I have business that I would like to address." he said.

"Arl Bryland, I was not aware that you had a claim to either of the remaining lands in question." Alistair replied.

"Oh, I don't, your majesty. But I do have a matter of great importance, nonetheless."

Alistair turned to look at Eamon and saw the old arl's eyes were filled with concern. An uneasy feeling began to creep up into the king. He was starting to get the sense that maybe something wasn't quite right, after all.

"State what's on your mind." he said.

Bryland grinned slyly as he pulled a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket and unfolded it, holding it up for all to see, saying as he did, "I have here a copy of a letter that was given to Brother Cantarus of the Denerim chantry. It's seems to have been written by a spy who worked for the Orlesians during their invasion after the murder of our beloved Queen Moira."

"How did you get that?"

"How I came across it is not important, your majesty. What _is_, however, is what the letter describes. Apparently the spy was deeply embedded in our own forces; a woman by the name of Katriel. And it would seem that she was not alone. In order for her to have gotten the information she did and use it against the rebel forces at West Hill, she had assistance. That assistance came from her lover...a notable Fereldan."

"Say what you mean, Arl Bryland. Who are you referring to?"

"Oh, I think you know already, your majesty." Bryland replied as he held the paper out to Alistair, allowing him to see it more clearly, "I speak of none other than your own father: _Maric Theirin_!"

_Liked it? Hated it? Don't forget to click on the review button and let me know what you thought. And for even more fantastic stuff (including excellent drawings from the stories) join us at the Official OoA website (the link can be found on my profile)._


	7. Chapter 7

**Part VII**

As Morrigan led her young song down a side street in the Market District, the familiar hint of exotic spices and herbs began to tickle her nose. The witch knew she was getting close to her destination: The Wonders of Thedas. It was a magic shop that carried some of the most rare and unique items in Ferelden. Every time she was in Denerim, Morrigan made it a point to visit this out-of-the-way place. Most of the wares were far too expensive for the average mage, but the witch was fortunate that money was no obstacle; another one of the benefits of being married to a Cousland.

"Ah, Lady Morrigan, so nice to see you again." the man standing at the counter said in a smooth and even tone when she and her son entered. He was a tranquil; a mage who had undergone a special magical process that removed all emotions from him. But in return, he had been given the ability to fold lyrium into objects and give them nearly any magical property. Imbuing magic into items and selling them served as one of the primary sources of income for the Circle of Magi, who happened to be the proprietors of this particular shop.

While it was true that Morrigan held no love for the Circle or its mages, she swallowed her pride and kept such things to herself whenever she found herself within this shop's walls. After all, many of the magical garments and objects that she owned had been purchased here, and she greatly disliked feeling like a hypocrite.

So without saying a word, the witch started browsing through the shelves with her son in tow. She would stop every so often to inspect an object that caught her eye, only to place it back on the shelf and continue on.

"Have you no items of value?" she asked the tranquil, never turning to face him.

"We carry only the best Thedas has to offer, my lady." he replied in his ghostly tone.

"You have only trinkets and baubles. I was expecting to find something more; something out of the ordinary, perhaps."

"If that is the case, I might have something of interest for you." the tranquil said as he reached under his counter and brought out a thick book bound in black leather and covered with small gemstones arranged in symbols and patterns alone the face and spine.

Upon seeing the book, the witch's interest piqued. "'Tis a magic tome, is it not?" she asked as she moved in for a closer look.

"You are correct. But not just any tome. It is said to be the tome of the great apostate wizard Munne. He lived more than two centuries ago and his power was said to rival that of Flemeth, herself."

Morrigan examined the book, flipping through its many handwritten pages. "That name is not unfamiliar to me. I have indeed heard stories of him when I was a child." she said.

"I am sure a mage of your caliber can quite easily tell that the book is authentic. It's not everyday that one can hope to make such a find."

"However, such a rare book must also come with a price." Morrigan noted.

"How very astute of you, my lady. A tome of such high quality does most certainly have its price."

"That being?"

"Eight hundred sovereigns, my lady." the tranquil replied, "a bargain even at twice the cost."

Morrigan knew the price would be hefty for such an item, and while she could afford the cost, spending that much coin would leave hardly any left for the return trip to Highever. "I will have to speak with my husband about it." she said.

"As you wish." the tranquil replied as he reached for the book and began to slowly place it back under the counter and out of view. "But I urge you to hurry. There were several other patrons who also held interest in the tome. Such a rare item surely will not be here for long. Why just this morning I was informed of a high level mage who was looking to add it to his personal collection."

"Wait..." Morrigan said, grabbing the man's arm before he could hide the tome away completely, "I shall take it."

"Excellent choice, my lady." the tranquil replied as he held out his hand, "that will be eight hundred sovereigns."

Grumbling as she pulled the money purse from her belt, Morrigan opened it and counted out the proper amount and handed it to the tranquil. "This tome had better be worth the price." she said.

"You have my word that there is nothing else like it in all Thedas."

Suddenly, Seth began tugging at Morrigan's skirt, "Uh-oh!" he cried out.

"What?" Morrigan asked as she cast her son an impatient stare.

"Poop!"

"Seth! I thought I told you to take care of your business before we left!" the witch huffed as she rolled her eyes and looked back at the man across the counter, "I hate to ask, but might you have someplace I can use to...uhm..."

"Certainly, my lady. You can use the store room. It's right this way."

"You have my thanks."

* * *

"Are you implying that my father was a traitor?" Alistair asked, completely shocked. "That's the most preposterous thing I've ever heard! My father was a hero!"

"Normally, I would be the first to agree with you, your majesty, but the letter does not lie." Bryland replied, as he held the letter out and shook it for emphasis, "How else could this spy, Katriel, have gained such detailed knowledge of Ferelden's forces from him?"

"Simple. She used my father. Anyone can plainly see that for themselves. I'll not have anymore of your treason!"

"If only it was that easy, your majesty. But I'm afraid this letter paints a far different picture. And I think you know it. Since it was you who found this note tucked away in West Hill, surely you knew of its contents. Why else would you have secretly had Brother Cantarus examine it?"

"Are you saying that I somehow knew my father was a traitor and was trying to cover it up?"

"The facts speak for themselves, your majesty."

All around the room, the lords began mumbling to one another in hushed voices as the arl's revelation began to sink in. Even those who had been most loyal to the king were finding it hard not to have their doubts.

"That's enough!" Alistair cried out, "all of you! We are not going to waste any more time on this rubbish!"

But Alistair's orders were met with cries of "let him speak!" and "we deserve to know the truth!" from around the hall.

"I submit that your father knew of the Orlesian's plans at West Hill and willingly led the rebel forces into a trap, only to conveniently make his escape. After all, was it not Teyrn Loghain who actually weeded out the spy and had her destroyed?"

"That name is not to be spoken in this room!"

"Why not? Does your majesty so fear that the truth will at last be told? That is was, in fact, Loghain, and not Maric, who was responsible for driving out the Orlesians once and for all? That it was Loghain who should have been made king, instead of your father?"

"You filthy liar!" Alistair shouted as he jumped up from his throne and flung his fist into Brylands jaw, knocking the arl to the stone floor. "If you _ever_ say another word about my father again, I'll kill you myself!"

"_Alistair_!" Eamon yelled out while a shocked commotion crossed through the room.

Bryland lay on the floor, wiping the blood away from his aching jaw with the back of his hand, "Yes, Eamon. Control your _puppet_. That is what you do, isn't it?"

"I think we've all had enough excitement for one day. We can resume the landsmeet tomorrow, after everyone has had a chance to calm down and clear their heads." Eamon said as he tugged Alistair, urging him away from his spot standing over the fallen arl.

Eamon, who was still pulling at Alistair, Fergus, and The Warden all left the main hall and proceeded to the royal study in order to try to figure what had just transpired. As they walked through the corridors of the palace, Eamon cast a very fatherly and disappointed look at Alistair, who in turn looked like a child who knew that he had done something terribly wrong. The two sentries at the study door bowed deeply as the four men passed by them.

After the large wooden door was shut and the four men were sure that they were alone, Eamon's frustration boiled over, "Your little stunt back there probably just cost us the support of half the lords in Ferelden. What could you have possibly been thinking, Alistair?"

"I'm...I'm sorry, Arl Eamon." Alistair mumbled weakly, like a child who was being scolded. "I don't know what happened. He just struck a nerve."

"That's some nerve." Fergus quipped, which drew a unfavorable glare from Eamon who was obviously still flustered with the king.

"You heard what Bryland said about my father. How could he say such awful things? My father was a hero." Alistair said in his own defense. "To even insinuate that he was a traitor...I can't even think about it."

"Had you read the letter you found, you may have been prepared. That's what I was trying to warn you about before you rushed off like some damned fool." Eamon replied.

"I should have him arrested for treason, is what I _should_ do." Alistair fumed as he crossed him arms.

"And just what exactly would that accomplish? At this point, we need to fix the damage that's been done instead of adding more fuel to the fire. If you arrest Bryland, the other lords will interpret that as you trying to keep him quiet."

"Or it might send a message to the others that I'll not have this kind of talk going around."

A look of grave concern came over Eamon, and he said, "is that really the type of king you want to be, Alistair?"

"No. I suppose it isn't," Alistair sighed, "but what else am I supposed to do?"

"I knew Bryland could be savvy at times, but I never dreamed he would be capable of something of this magnitude. After all, he was one of your most vocal supporters in becoming king three years ago."

"So what do we do now?" Fergus asked, "this awful mess isn't just going to fix itself, you know."

"We need to find out how Bryland was able to obtain a copy of the letter. Warden, perhaps you could visit with Brother Cantarus over at the chantry and have a talk with him."

The Warden grumbled and rolled his eyes, as if he knew the request was coming. "I can do that, I suppose." he said.

"Is there a problem, Warden?"

"Yeah..." Fergus answered for him, snickering a bit. "That wife of his. He promised Morrigan that everything was going to go smoothly and there wouldn't be any problems."

"How would you like your lip to match Bryland's?" The Warden shot back.

"I'd love to see you try." Fergus quipped.

"Gentlemen, please!" Eamon urged, trying to calm the brothers, "we have enough to worry about without squabbling between ourselves."

"Don't worry about those two. They always act like that."

"Either way," Eamon continued, "we need to ascertain what Bryland's scheme is. Alistair's outburst is going to take some work if we are to undo it and prevent any future mishaps. I will meet with Teagan and see what he has learned about what the other lords think. Warden, I suggest you talk with Brother Cantarus as soon as possible so that we are better prepared for tomorrow's gathering."

* * *

While Seth was taking his afternoon nap, Morrigan was sitting at the table and thumbing through her new purchase. She bristled with excitement as she turned the pages and saw powerful spells that she only dreamed of possessing. There were spells that would enable one to fly, have the power to stop an entire army in its tracks, or change a person's sex with the simple waive of a hand. There was even an incantation that would allow the caster to turn a flesh and blood creature into solid stone. Never before had the witch seen such a variety of magic scribed into one place. With such great power at her fingertips, after a few months of study she would be able to give even Flemeth more than she bargained for, if the old hag were still alive.

Ever since she had given herself to The Warden, Morrigan had been left with precious little opportunity to seek out new sources of magic. She didn't realize how much she missed the thrill of discovering new arcane powers. It was one of the greatest single pleasures she could imagine. The thick tome, which contained many pages of tantalizing spells and incantations, would do much to remedy what the witch had missed over that time. Morrigan would soon hold control over the mystic forces like she never had before. The book was proving to be a once in a lifetime discovery.

Without warning, the door creaked open and The Warden unexpectedly appeared, startling the witch who wasn't looking for her husband to return for several more hours yet. She hastily closed the book and shoved it to the side, covering it with her knapsack so that it was hidden from view. She popped up from the chair and went to intercept him.

"You've returned much earlier than I anticipated." she said as she greeted him with a customary kiss.

"The landsmeet has been postponed until tomorrow morning. There have been a few new developments." he replied.

"What sorts of developments might those be?"

"Only that Alistair can be completely brainless at times."

"As I have said all along. Tell me, what has the buffoon done now?"

"Nothing really, except turn every single lord against him with one stupid mistake." The Warden huffed, "And guess who's job it is to fix it?"

The witch folded her arms and shot a menacing glare at her husband, "I warned you, did I not? I told you that we would not escape from this unscathed." she snapped.

"There hasn't been any bloodshed, and there's not going to be. It's just a big political mess, that's all. The kind that cause headaches." he said, trying to derail her indignation.

"There is still time enough."

"I know I can always count on your cheery outlook."

"I merely state the truth. 'Tis hardly my fault if we are dragged into saving Ferelden from itself yet again."

"And I'm sure you won't let me forget it, if that's the case. But Arl Bryland is up to something and this would have happened whether we were here or not. At least this time I can intervene before anyone gets hurt."

"And just how do you plan on doing that?"

"I'm heading over to the chantry in a bit so I can talk to Brother Cantarus about the letter Alistair found. Somehow Bryland got his hands on a copy of it and I need to see just how that happened. The version the arl has makes Alistair's father, Maric, appear to be a traitor. I want to find out if the letter has been altered in some way." The Warden explained.

"None of this would have happened if Alistair would have just read the damned thing beforehand." he grumbled.

"Leave it to Alistair to be his own worst enemy."

"Maybe, but there isn't anything I can do about it now."

"So...how did your trip into the Market District go?" The Warden asked, very much wanting to change the subject, "did you find anything you liked?"

"Uhm...all went well." Morrigan replied meekly, suddenly finding herself feeling uncomfortable. She was hoping that he would forget to ask her about it, but considering he would see how much money she spent, he was bound to find out about it sooner or later.

"There was one item I purchased." she said, "a book. A very special book."

"A special book? Why does that sound expensive?" he asked, "where is it?"

Morrigan reached over the table and pulled her knapsack away, exposing the black leather tome. She slid it across the table until it rested in front of him, saying "this would be it."

"You were hiding it? Why? How much did it cost?"

"'Twas not _hidden_..." the witch said, trying to sound as innocent as she could, "I simply covered it by accident when I placed my knapsack on the table."

"Right...so how much did it cost?"

"Why are you so fixated on its price? I have already told you 'twas a special book. 'Tis a rare one-of-a-kind magical tome that belonged to the apostate mage, Munne. Its power rivals even Flemeth's grimoire."

"Morrigan..." he said, sending a piercing glare right into her large golden eyes.

"Eight hundred sovereigns." she replied softly, turning her gaze away from his.

"_Eight hundred sovereigns_?" he fumed, "woman, are you out of your damned mind?"

"Do not take that tone with me." she shot back, defensively, "I've not had the opportunity to pursue any new spells in quite some time. 'Tis only fair that I be able to. You act as though I am not deserving of such things."

"Oh no you don't. Don't try to push this off on me. I never tried to keep you from learning new magic. You should have talked to me before you tried to buy something that expensive and you know it. That was nearly all the coin we had. Now what are we supposed to do?"

"I had to purchase it when I saw it. The shopkeep informed me there were several others who also held interest in the tome."

"Of course he said that! He was trying to get you to buy it! I bet you didn't even haggle with him over the price, did you?"

"No...I did not." she said, her eyes falling to the floor as she realized her mistake. "I take it you are angry with me?"

"Yes, I'm angry. After the morning I've had, this was the last thing I needed."

"So I am to be punished, then? Do you intend on throwing me across your lap?" she purred coyly as she nestled up against him.

"Don't be silly." he said, as he wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her closer to him, "I just wish you would have talked to me about it first, that's all."

"I do apologize, my love. However, with this tome I shall be able to do wondrous things. It contains magics that I had only dreamed of before."

"I do promise to consult with you in the future should I find anymore such tempting items."

"That's all I ask."

From behind them, a knock came at the door, followed by a servants voice calling out, "Warden, Arl Eamon requests you join him in the study. He says it's urgent."

The Warden grumbled and sighed, "Duty calls." he said to the witch he held in his arms.

"Go. Do what you must. As ever, I shall remain here and await your return."

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers in a long passionate kiss as the banging on the door continued. He took his hand and gently brushed her hair out of her face with his fingers, saying, "I promise, I'll be as quick as I can. With all of this. Then we can head back home." and he grabbed the door, swung it open before stepping through, and disappearing down the corridor.

Eamon was already in the study when The Warden arrived, followed by Fergus who had also been summoned. From the look on the arl's face, both men knew that a very serious turn of events had transpired.

"Gentlemen, we have a very grave problem on our hands." Eamon said, "it appears that Bryland's display at the landsmeet had greater affect than any of us realized. The lords are demanding an inquiry."

"We were expecting that." The Warden replied, "but I get the feeling there's more, isn't there?"

"Unfortunately, you are correct." the arl confirmed, "They are demanding that in light of recent events, Alistair abdicate the throne."

"What?" Fergus gasped in shock, "They can't be serious."

"I'm afraid they are all too serious. But that's not the worst of it. Arl Bryland is demanding that Alistair be arrested for treason and held pending a trial into this whole affair."

"That's absurd!" The Warden exclaimed, "Without Alistair on the throne, Bryland can easily have his way. He'd be able to put whoever he wanted in control of Vulshire and the Waking Sea."

"You'll get no disagreement from me, which is why we cannot let any of this happen." Eamon agreed, "Warden, we'll need you to find out what you can from Brother Cantarus as soon as possible. That blasted letter is the key to everything."

"I'll take care of it." The Warden replied with a hearty nod for confirmation.

"Where's Alistair?"

"I've sent him away to find safe haven until all of this can be resolved. If he is seen by any of Bryland's men, it would be a disaster. They would attempt to apprehend him immediately."

"Do you have any idea where he went?" The Warden asked.

"The less I know about Alistair's whereabouts, the better. Although, he did tell me he had someplace he could go. I left it at that."

"If you don't know where he went, then how will you be able to get word to him when all this has been resolved?" Fergus asked.

"If I know Alistair," The Warden injected, "I know exactly where's he's headed. There's only one place he'd feel safe enough to go."

* * *

Alistair was doing his best to blend in with the crowd around him in the Market District. If anyone suspected his identity, it wouldn't be long before Arl Bryland and his men would find out. So, he covered himself with a large red cowl and pulled the hood over his head in order to hide his face from view as he walked the side streets.

This entire mess was of his own doing, he thought. How could he have been so foolish as to have turned the letter over to Cantarus, especially without reading it first. He cursed himself for his ignorance. He should have known better. But he'd been distracted with Dyana's departure and his head hadn't really been right ever since.

From behind a hidden corner, Alistair spied two men clad in shiny metal armor. The men were going from person to person about the Market District square, talking to each individual. And although he couldn't hear what they were talking about, Alistair was sure that these were Bryland's men and that they were looking for him.

He quickly turned from the corner and ducked back into the shadows, farther out of view. Alistair was sure that someone had seen him. He needed a place to hide, and quickly, so he bolted down the dark street in search of a suitable spot.

All of the sudden, a door swung open right in front of him. The door was too close and he was going to fast to avoid crashing into it, which he did. Hard. The force of the collision knocked Alistair down on his backside, knocking him silly. He scrambled to get back to his feet, but his legs were still wobbly and weren't cooperating properly. His efforts to stand resembled those of a newborn fawn as he staggered about.

"What are you in such a rush for?" a voice called to him.

He looked in the direction of the sound, and what he saw did nothing to ease his panic. Standing in the doorway was someone he recognized.

"_You_!" Alistair exclaimed.

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	8. Chapter 8

**Part VIII**

Arl Eamon was sitting at his large, ornate wooden desk in his manor study. He had been there for some time, debating different strategies for dealing with the current crisis. The hours crept by and his task took him deep into the afternoon and evening. Darkness had almost completely fallen before the arl even noticed that he needed to light the lamp in order to see what he was doing.

He reached down and grabbed a slender piece of wood from the fire that was still smoldering. He blew on the tip a few good times in order to coax a flame from the object, opened the front of the lamp, and touched the fire to the wick, which quickly leaped across as it eagerly began to consume the oil-bathed cloth and cast a soft warm glow about the room.

As Arl Eamon shook the burning wood vigorously to snuff the flame, a servant burst into the room, announcing in a loud nervous voice, "I apologize for the interruption, my lord. But you have a visitor who is very...adamant...about seeing you."

"I said I was not to be disturbed for any reason. I don't have the time to be taking visitors." Eamon grumbled back in a perturbed tone.

"Yes, my lord, and I tried to explain that to your guest, but as you can see.." the man said as he pointed to a bleeding nick across his throat, "he was quite insistent."

Just then, Arl Bryland stormed into the study, and shoved the servant indignantly to the side. He was accompanied by several of his men, with Lord Cuthbert following behind. The arl's greeting consisted of, "you've got some nerve, Eamon." and nothing more.

"You say so about me, but I'm not the one barging into other peoples homes and interrupting their work." Eamon retorted.

"Having the king run off into hiding won't change a single thing. If anything, it only serves to paint his guilt that much more clearly. Even now, the people are wondering why their king has run away instead of standing up and facing the accusations against him like a man."

"Do not come at me with such righteousness. You aren't fooling anybody. Your ploy is to have Alistair removed from power so that you can get the rulings you desire and stretch your influence into the northern bannorn. If you can't put him on trial, then you can't force him from the throne. True, relocating Alistair to a more safe location will hurt his image with the the people. But that is a risk we are willing to take if it means keeping you in check and preventing the nobility from starting to choose sides. The last thing we need right now is more division among us. Instead, we are now able to focus on getting to the bottom of this mess rather than have to listen any hasty calls for abdication."

"In a few days time, after we've had the chance to defuse your scheme, Alistair will reemerge from hiding. And do you know what happens after that, Arl Bryland?"

The arl's tone gave an unsettling feeling in the pit of Bryland's stomach. Eamon was playing from a place of confidence that he shouldn't have had. And it greatly irked Bryland. "What...what happens?" he stammered.

"_You_ will stand trial for treason, espionage, bribery, corruption, and whatever else Alistair can think of to charge you with."

Suddenly, Bryland's face became scrunched in anger, "Don't put this back on me, Eamon!" he fumed, "It was _you_ who suggested he be made king in the first place. And I must say, you seem to have gotten more than your fair share of favorable rulings over these past three years. So don't play innocent with me. He was never the best choice for king and you know it."

"Alistair is his own king. I merely advise and nothing more. You are just as aware as I am that his rulings have been fair. Your ploy is clearly to expand your own influence. You have no true interest Alistair's legitimacy as king. You are merely striking out like a spoiled child that hasn't gotten its way."

"You think you've beaten me by simply sending the king away? Do I have to remind you that I don't need the king's presence in order to convince him to abdicate? If two-thirds of the lords agree on a new choice for ruler, that person is placed on the throne."

"That law only applies if there is no king on the throne in the first place. Ferelden already has a king."

"There would seem to be some debate about that, now wouldn't there? First we have mysterious letters from spies being covered up, and now the king has gone conveniently missing. If anything, the throne is as vacant now as it has ever been. Most of the lords and nobles are already behind me, Eamon. Alistair was never cut out to be a great king; the kind of ruler that Ferelden truly needs. But tomorrow I aim to change that. I'm calling for a vote of no confidence in the king so that we can replace him with someone more suitable; someone who should have been there all along: Anora."

"Anora? You can't be serious. She's been confined to her family's estate since she was released from the tower. She no longer has a legitimate claim to the throne."

"I believe she has the most legitimate claim of all. After all, did we not just learn that it was Loghain Mac Tir who was responsible for identifying the spy and having her eliminated? Was is also not Loghain who drove out the Orlesians, thus liberating Ferelden and restoring the monarchy? He should have been made king over Maric. As Loghain's daughter, it is Anora's right to fix that error. All I need are two-thirds of the lords to agree with me. I promise you, Eamon, thanks to that letter, I easily have that much support. And because Maric is no longer around to pay for his sins, his son shall stand in his place. Alistair Theirin will answer for his father's crimes."

"You've gone completely mad. You haven't even proved that any crime has been committed. All you have is that letter, with no real proof of its authenticity. Until I hear word from Brother Cantarus for myself, I'm not going to jump to any conclusions...and neither will _you_. After we verify if the letter is real or not, we'll move from there."

Bryland's eye crackled with inner rage, but instead of flying loose, he calmly took a deep breath, composed himself, and said, "you can try to stall all you want to, Eamon. But tomorrow morning the nobility of this land is taking a vote of no confidence in the king. If you wish to be heard and have your vote counted, I suggest you be there. By tomorrow, Anora will retake her rightful place as queen, and then, Alistair won't just be a king gone into hiding, he'll be a fugitive from the law. When that happens, there will be a great many more men looking for him than just mine. Think about it."

Bryland turned and started to storm out of the manor study, as he passed Lord Cuthbert he gave a gesture for the lord to follow him, saying as he did, "Come Matias, we'll leave Eamon to his thoughts. I'm sure he has much to ponder."

* * *

It was getting to be late in the afternoon when The Warden was finally able to make it over to the chantry and have a talk with Brother Cantarus, and what he found out was very interesting, indeed. The good brother explained that he had just received the letter in his possession when he was called away on an urgent matter. When he returned about half an hour later, he couldn't find any trace of the document anywhere. Cantarus told The Warden that he could have sworn he left it on the table in front of him, but he didn't see it. Fearing the worst, he frantically searched high and low all over the chantry grounds. He carefully retraced his every step, but they all kept taking him back to the table. The last time Cantarus returned to it, he found the letter resting on top in its proper place, as if it had never gone anywhere.

He began to think his eyes were failing him. The letter was there, then it wasn't, then it was there again. However, the brother's words turned even more curious when he revealed that the document may have changed. While he admitted he didn't have the chance to the give letter anything but a cursory glance before he was called away, he recalled some of the things he thought he saw as being different than what was actually in the letter the second time he was able to examine it, as if it had been somehow altered. But, of course, he couldn't be absolutely sure about it.

One thing he was sure of though was that all signs pointed to the document being authentic. Cantarus was able to compare the writing with a few other documents the chantry had on file written by Katriel. The handwriting was a perfect match. Also the type of paper and ink were correct for that region during the time in question. If the letter had somehow been altered or replaced during the supposed "disappearance", the copy was just as good as the original in every way.

The Warden was faced with two main problems. First of all, if the letter had been altered, how could it still come across as being authentic? Certainly any changes made to such an old document would plainly stand out, especially to one as experienced as Cantarus. Secondly, if there had been changes made, who would be capable of doing such a thing, and why would they want to? Thirty minutes might be able to provide enough time for someone to make changes, but from them to cover their tracks so thoroughly, magic had to be involved somehow. The Warden was sure of it. He reasoned it might be a good idea if he let Morrigan take a look at the letter. If there was anything magical about it at all, she would be able to tell.

That left The Warden with one clear task: finding whoever "borrowed" the letter for half an hour or more. Whoever that person was held the key to everything. They could tell whether the document had been altered or not, who wanted it done, and why. Although, at this point, all signs seemed to point straight to Arl Bryland. But with the damning evidence contained in the letter, The Warden knew that he and the others would need to produce some solid proof of their own in order to put an end to Bryland's scheme. Without it, they would only be seen as making baseless accusations, thus undermining their position even further. And baseless accusations were all they had at this point.

Concentrating on finding whoever may have taken the letter, The Warden began asking around to see if any of the Chantry members remembered seeing anyone who may have stood out two days ago when the letter was delivered. He started with Brother Cantarus and worked his way through the entire chantry, asking person after person if they had seen or heard anything suspicious that day. Considering that there were hundreds of patrons who visited the chantry each day, The Warden didn't have high hopes for any of them seeing something out of the ordinary. But to his surprise, that turned out not to be the case, as several of the Chantry members reported seeing something. Everything he was told appeared to point to a young man in his early twenties. The man was seen rushing into the chantry not long after the time the letter first arrived, only to disappear among the people gathered there, until a few moments later when he was seen racing out of the exit. Some time later, the young man returned and repeated his trick of vanishing among the chantry visitors, only to re-emerge again a short time later and quickly make his way out of the building.

While The Warden received more information on the suspect than he dreamed he would, there was something troubling about it. From the descriptions the witnesses gave, the person he was looking for had to be a rogue of some sort. No one else could have moved so stealthily and snatched the letter undetected, or be able to blend in with the visitors as well. This put his theory of magical involvement on shaky ground, but he wasn't going to rule it out just yet. It still seemed like the most reasonable cause. The Warden knew he would have more answers after Morrigan had a chance to examine the letter in detail.

Back at the palace, the witch impatiently awaited her warden's return. The hour had gotten late, so Morrigan had gone through the motions of preparing herself to lie down for the night. She tucked Seth in his bed and patiently soothed the child until he drifted off. After which, Morrigan removed her clothes and changed into a shirt that was entirely too large for her slender frame, having once belonged to The Warden, and slid underneath the large thick blanket on her side of the bed. There she waited, her eyes closed but not sleeping. She waited for his return as she had waited countless times before. She learned very quickly that whenever her warden left her there was the risk something could happen to him, her fears having been confirmed more than once. No matter how unassuming his reason for being away from her was, there was always the chance that something could go horribly wrong and he may come back to her injured, or even worse, not return at all. So Morrigan lay in the darkened room underneath the covers with her head resting on the pillow and her eyes closed, and she waited.

As the hours passed and the night grew deeper, the tiny tinge in the witch's belly turned into a large knot. She shifted and turned, laying first on one side, then flipping over to the other, her restlessness making it impossible to find comfort. She told herself that at any second he would come strolling through the door completely intact and without injury. She knew that in the morning she would think of herself as being silly and childish for letting herself get so riled up over nothing. If anything, he would likely be drunk.

Morrigan told herself many things in order to put herself at ease, but she found she was having a hard time believing any of it. Several times, the witch had to fight the urge to jump up from the bed, get dressed, and track him down. Each time she was able to convince herself to remain where she was and continue to wait it out.

At long last, the latch on the door clacked and squeaked as someone on the other side of the door turned the metal ring. The Warden stepped into the dimly moonlit room showing no signs of damage or injury. He was entirely intact, having no wounds or bruises of any kind. The witch closed her eyes tightly before his eyes were able to adjust to the dark and see that hers were still open.

While he removed his belt and placed it atop a dresser, Morrigan pretended as though it was the noise of the buckle hitting wood that woke her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." he said, turning around to face her as she slowly rose while feigning a deep yawn.

"'Tis quite late. I trust your efforts were productive?" she replied in a tone that carried a hint of displeasure at his tardiness.

"Yeah, it took quite a bit longer than I thought it would. But I may have found something out that can help us. Brother Cantarus thinks the letter could have been altered somehow. If I can prove the letter was changed, that would go a long way towards clearing this whole mess up. So, at least there's some good news."

"_Good news_?" the witch asked, stunned by what she heard, "what part of your news is good? If your suspicions prove to be correct, that can only mean there is much more going on than you realize."

Throwing the blanket aside and rising from the bed, she said, "someone is trying to make a play for power at Alistair's expense. To that end, this person apparently had the power and influence to have the document changed. You, in turn, will do everything you can to track this mysterious person down; to the shores of Thedas and beyond if need be, thus ensuring that our stay in Denerim will be quite longer than you promised it would be, all of which I warned you about beforehand."

"Do we really have to do the 'I told you so' speech now?"

"Am I not entitled? Was that not a condition of our agreement?" Morrigan reminded him.

"I believe your exact words were..." she said before changing to the deepest tone she could in order to imitate her husband, "You can tell me how wrong I was all you want to."

"I guess I did. But I don't sound anything like that." The Warden replied snickering slightly, "alright, go ahead if that's what you want to do. I'm sure you've been waiting to do it all night."

Morrigan's breast swelled with no small amount of righteous justification, "I should. Especially when considering that you promised nothing would happen...that this trip would be uneventful and boring. I should tell you just exactly how naïve and foolish you've acted."

"However, I cannot..." she said, her voice softening, "as much as you deserve it, I cannot bring myself to do so. I've no desire to be hurtful towards you with my words, nor do I feel like playing the condescending wife. 'Tis enough that you know."

His lips turned up in a coy grin, "so you aren't angry with me, then?" he asked.

"I did not say that." she replied as she folded her arms and turned from him.

He walked up to her and grabbed her around her waist. Leaning over her shoulder, he whispered into her ear, "too angry to help me with something?"

"Frustrating man." she grumbled. "Why am I not surprised that you would find some way of dragging me into this mess."

"The letter couldn't have been changed and yet still be authentic. Whoever altered it found a way to conceal the evidence. I'm betting magic was involved, but I can't prove it. That's where I need you..." he explained.

"You wish for me to examine this letter and determine if any signs of magic are present." she finished for him.

"Exactly."

"If it will aid in bringing about an end to our current predicament, then I shall do as you ask. If only so that we may return home that much sooner."

"Thanks, beautiful. I owe you."

"Yes, you do." the witch agreed. "Arrange for me to be able to examine the letter before you leave for whatever business you have planned in the morning."

"I'm trying to find the person who may have taken the letter. I've asked around the chantry and a few people think they might have seen something, but from what they've told me, all signs point to the perpetrator being a trained rogue or thief. But I still think whoever it was used magic somehow."

"And since mages rarely have the time to devote to training in the arts of stealth, you can assume that whoever 'twas responsible had at least one accomplice if, indeed, magic was involved." Morrigan added.

"That's what I was thinking as well. But we won't know anything until you have a chance to look at the letter. Once you've done that, we'll have a clearer image of the thieves, and each piece of information we uncover brings us that much closer to finding them. And catching the thieves should lead us to whoever is behind all of this."

"I would think that answer to be plainly obvious: Arl Bryland. Did you not say so yourself?"

"At first, that's what I thought. But the more I had a chance to think about it, the more I realized that whoever it is must have an immense amount of money and power. They have the means to spy on Alistair and steal sensitive documents right out of the chantry in broad daylight. I'm not convinced Arl Bryland has that amount of influence. I have a hard time even seeing someone like my brother being able to infiltrate Alistair's men so deeply."

"What are you saying, then? Who could be so powerful as to be able to do these things?"

"Most likely, someone from outside Ferelden. Probably a foreign government looking to place a ruler who would be more favorable to them on the throne." "

Bryland is as much a pawn as the thief who stole the letter. He gets control over a large chunk of the northern bannorn, and most likely becomes a teyrn in the process, and all he has to do for it is too make sure his benefactor's choice for ruler is placed on the throne."

"A lovely peace of reasoning, however, can you prove any of it?"

"Not the first damn bit."

* * *

"Just what I didn't need right now." Alistair huffed as he hopped up and brushed the dirt from his clothes.

"You think this is good for me? You're the last person I wanted to see again." Edalweiss shot back in defense.

"Then why don't you just toddle off and leave me alone? Or is nearly breaking my nose not enough for you?"

"Me?" the small woman gasped in disbelief, "you're the clumsy jerkface who ran into it!"

"I wouldn't have run into it if you hadn't opened it right in front of me!" Alistair cried out in frustration. "Admit it, you did it on purpose."

"I did not! How was I to know that you were running through there like a frightened child?"

"I wasn't _running_. I was briskly walking."

"Is that what you call it? That was the fastest _walk_ I ever saw."

"Dumb girl. What do you know anyway?"

A small booted foot came up swiftly and streaked towards Alistair's right shin. "_Owww_!" the king howled in pain.

"_Stop kicking me_!" he raged at the petite woman, "Maker's breath if you kick me again, I swear I'll kill you myself."

Just then, several armored men caught Alistair's attention when he saw them making their way down the small side street. Although the men bore no coat of arms or any other markings that might suggest their allegiance, he suspected they answered to Arl Bryland. He grabbed Edalweiss by her arm and quickly jerked the surprised woman inside the building, ducking out of sight and closing the door behind him.

"Of all the nerve! What gives you the right to just throw people around. Just because you're supposed to be some sort of king doesn't mean you can just go shoving people." the small woman hissed, her temper starting to boil over.

"Will you just be quiet and listen for a minute?" Alistair said firmly, "there are men out there who are looking for me. If they find me it would be very bad. Not just for me, but for all of Ferelden."

"Why would _you _need to hide. Aren't you the king? That doesn't make any sense at all."

"It's complicated. I'd rather not get into it."

"How do I know you're not some weirdo who likes to throw himself on defenseless women? You might want to change your mind and start explaining before I decide to let those people know where you are hiding."

Alistair scowled down at the woman, "you wouldn't dare." he said.

"Try me."

"Alright, you win." Alistair let out, defeated.

"There are people who are trying to have me removed from the throne..." he explained as he peered through a slight crack in the door out at the suspicious men, "they're making a play for power and they've falsely accused me of being a traitor to help them. The lords have called for a hearing and an inquiry into it."

"Are you a traitor?"

"No! Don't be ridiculous."

"How do I know that? For all I know, you could be a traitor. I bet I could get some kind of reward for turning you in."

"You're just going to have to trust me."

"Trust you? If you're not a traitor, why are you trying to hide?"

"Because without me they won't be able to hold a hearing. That buys people who are loyal to me more time to get to the bottom of this mess and uncover the truth. But it doesn't get us more than a few days at most. After that, a move for a vote of no confidence can be taken. If that passes, I can be forced to step down."

"I don't know why I should believe you, but I do." Edalweiss said, "I guess it's your face."

"I've always thought I had an honest face." Alistair replied as he stroked his chin.

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of: nobody that stupid looking is capable of making up such a story." the small woman retorted, smirking slightly.

"Very funny. Are you going to help me or not?"

"Help you? What do you need me for, _your majesty_?"

"I'm trying to get to the chantry on the other side of the Market District, but there's a good chance of getting spotted by those men out there. I need you to distract them for me."

"Even if I distract them for you, who's to say there won't be more of them?"

"What are you saying?" Alistair asked.

"I think I have a better idea." Edalweiss answered, turning to her side to address someone Alistair couldn't see, "What do you think Muiren? Are you up to it?"

A long, slender fish-like creature appeared out of thin air, chirping and squeaking merrily. It's body shimmered with silver as it danced through the air.

"What the hell is _that_?" Alistair exclaimed in shock.

_Liked it? Hated it? Don't forget to click on the review button and let me know what you thought. And for even more fantastic stuff (including excellent drawings from the stories) join us at the Official OoA website (the link can be found on my profile)._


	9. Chapter 9

**Part IX**

"Come with me," Edalweiss said as she grabbed Alistair's arm and led him toward the rear of the building, "Muiren will take care of the men in the street while we sneak out the back."

"That _thing_ has a name?" Alistair asked as he pointed over his shoulder at the fish-like creature that seemed to swim back and forth through the air, making chirps and whistles.

"That's Muirghein...or Muiren for short. He's my friend."

As Alistair and Edalwiess sneaked out the back of the building, Muiren dove down into the wooden floor so that only his dorsal fin was revealed above the boards. With a few kicks of his long, slender tail, he "swam" under the front door and out into the street. The fin slithered down the street, headed right for the armor-clad men, who had their backs were turned. When he got close enough, the creature popped up out of the ground, hovering silently just behind the men. He took his tail, and cracked it like a whip, quickly slapping each of the three men in the back of the head before darting back into the dirt.

The men quickly swung around to see what hit them, each rubbing the stinging spot on the backs of their heads. They looked high and low but didn't see any sign of whatever it was. The men simply shrugged as two fish-eyes poking out of the ground behind them watched.

Once again, the creature leaped from the ground and slapped them in the back of the head with his tail. _Smack! Smack! Smack! _Only to dive back into the ground and disappear. The confused men turned around to again see nothing.

They pulled their weapons from their sheaths and began to scan the area intently, looking for the bothersome culprit. As before, they searched all around but could find no trace of whoever smacked them. Just when they were about to lower their weapons and give up, Muiren hopped into the air in front of them, swirling and chirping. He raced back down the secluded street with the enraged men, who screamed and hollered, giving chase behind him.

"Not bad for a creepy fish-ghost." Alistair noted from his hiding spot behind one of the buildings.

"He's not a creepy fish-ghost!" the small woman beside him huffed.

Edalwiess blurted out ,"he's a..." before she caught herself, knowing what she almost said and the amount of trouble it could cause.

"A what?"

Edalweiss was silent for a few seconds, "...a demon." she finally answered sheepishly.

Alistair gasped, "a _demon_?"

"I already know what you're thinking. I've heard it all before. But it's not like how you think it is." she said, defending the creature, "he's a good demon. He's the reason I'm alive."

"A good demon? I've never heard of such a thing."

"I don't owe you an explanation, and besides we don't have time for one now. We have to get moving while the men are still distracted." Edalweiss replied, tugging again at his arm and urging him to follow her.

"Why should I trust anyone who hangs around with a demon? For all I know, you might be _trying_ to get me killed."

Edalweiss rolled her eyes and stomped her foot in the dirt. "Here we go." she grumbled.

She threw a very stern look, her eyes piercing through him somehow, yet they remained closed, "_Because,_" she said, "I'm the one trying to help you avoid those men."

"Well, there is that." Alistair agreed.

"Unless you would prefer me to tell the men who are looking for you where you are."

"No, I would really rather you didn't."

"Then stop being a pig-headed ass. I'm trying to _help_ you. Although, I don't have a clue why I should." Edalweiss shot back, finishing with a stern glare for emphasis.

"Now you wait here. I'm going to check and make sure the coast is clear."

"Be careful." Alistair warned.

"I'll be fine. They're not looking for me, remember?" Edalweiss replied, rejecting Alistair's concern.

"Wait for my signal." was the last thing she said before darting off down the street.

Alistair waited and watched from his secluded spot behind the corner of the building. From there he saw Edalweiss reach the end of the small side street, stop, and turn her head carefully in all directions as if to visually scan the area for suspicious characters, even though her eyes remained completely closed the entire time. After she was sure it was safe to proceed, she raised her hand and gestured for Alistair.

Still wary of attracting unwanted attention, he went to her as rapidly as he could while still not looking like he was in a hurry. As he walked, his eyes carefully looked back and forth, taking in everything and everyone. Arl Bryland was a crafty one. His agents could be anywhere or anyone. Alistair was sure there was someone in the mass of people shopping in the Market District that day who would soon be reporting what he saw in exchange for a small sack of coin. Alistair needed to get to safety soon, before he was found out.

"We'll stick to the back streets and alleys. Those are our best bet." Edalweiss said. "If Muiren sees anything, he'll let us know."

The pair covered the distance to the chantry in segments. It was always the same: the small woman would walk down the street while Alistair stayed out of sight. When she was sure everything was safe she would gesture for him to quickly join her, only for her to dart off down another stretch of street to repeat the entire process.

Muiren rejoined them when they reached the chantry at last. They carefully made sure no one was watching them before Alistair intertwined his fingers together and held his hands down low, palms up, in order to give Edalweiss a boost over a side wall, before he hoisted himself over the wall as well, falling down into some wooden barrels that were resting next to the wall inside the chantry compound. There was a great crash as he caught one of the barrels cleanly and glanced another. Wood cracked and splintered under his weight and the barrels tumbled over, spilling out their contents onto the ground.

"Be quiet you clumsy ox!" Edalweiss fumed while he stood, dusting the dirt from his clothes and picking the stray bits of straw from his hair.

"Sorry about that," Alistair offered sheepishly as he finished knocking the last bits of dust from his pants, "sneaking was never my strong suit."

"You don't seem to have many 'strong suits' at all, do you?"

"Very funny. This coming from a small girl who hangs around with a creepy fish-ghost."

Once again, a foot came swiftly up from the ground, aimed squarely for Alistair's already tender shin. This time, however, he was able to narrowly dodge her foot before it could hit its mark, stumbling and nearly falling over in the process. "_No kicking_!" he shouted as he tried to regain his balance.

"I told you, Muiren isn't a creepy fish-ghost! Stop calling him that!" Edalwiess huffed, "He's a..."

"A demon. Yes, I know. I heard you the first time you said it." Alistair interrupted, "it's not like that's any better, now it is?"

"I'm not gonna help you if all you're gonna do is be a mean jerkface."

Alistair threw up his hands, urging the woman to remain calm, and more importantly, quiet. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry." he said, "thank you for your help."

"That's more like it." Edalwiess replied with a nod of her head and a smile that showed a certain degree of satisfaction.

She turned to face Muiren, who was swimming in the air beside her, "you better stay out of sight, Muiren. We don't need anyone else jumping to conclusions." she said.

Strangely, the creature seemed to have no trouble understanding her words. He gave a few acknowledging clicks and chirps before vanishing into thin air before their eyes.

"That's a handy little trick." Alistair noted.

Together, they quietly went around to the side entrance of the large chantry, trying to stay out of view of the parishioners as they came in and out of the main door in a steady stream. They walked up the few steps leading to the shade-covered side door and Alistair raised his fist to give a few stout knocks on the wood. After which, he hastily scanned the area to see if his actions had drawn any attention.

An older man answered the door, his garment clearly identifying him as a Chantry brother. He was a short and round fellow whose face was scrunched into a curious expression upon seeing the king and his companion at the side entrance. It was as if nobody had ever bothered to use that particular door in some time.

"Your majesty." the man said with a hasty bow when he realized who the unexpected visitor was. "To what do we owe the honor?"

"I need to see Brother Cantarus immediately." Alistair answered in his kingly voice that was both calm and at the same time authoritarian. Eamon had commented recently on how well Alistair's speaking tone had progressed. It was another of the many things every good king had, and something else for Alistair to have to master.

"Of course, your majesty. I'll take you to him." the round man said, as he bowed and turned on his heels and went scurrying down the corridor.

After they had traveled through several hallways and passed many wooden doors, the man finally stopped at the one belonging to Brother Cantarus. He raised his knobby little fist and knocked against the door a few times in quick succession.

"Brother Cantarus" he called out, "You have a very important visitor."

There was silence for a moment, then the small wooden door creaked slightly as someone behind cracked it open to ascertain who these visitors were. From inside the dim room, two eyes peered out into the corridor. As soon as Alistair's identity was realized, the door flung wide open revealing a slender old man who long ago lost most of his hair and his bespectacled face was grooved with many deep wrinkles.

"Your majesty," he said, giving a deep bow as he did, "I was not expecting you. Please come in."

After both Alistair and Edalweiss had been ushered into the cozy room, Cantarus peered down the corridor, making sure no one was watching. Confident that all was safe, the old brother ducked back inside the room and closed the door behind him.

"I have to admit that I'm surprised that you're still in Denerim." he said, "with all the talk about you on the street, and all..."

"Talk? What sort of talk would that be?" Alistair asked, amazed to know there even had been such a thing.

"Word around Denerim is that you've run off or that you've been forced from power. The stories vary. Some say you've been labeled a traitor, while others say it's the work of dark agents intent on overthrowing the crown. In any event, it's made things very interesting around here, that's for sure."

"How do you mean?"

"No matter which of the stories are true, they all seem to focus around that letter you brought me." Cantarus explained, "I've had representatives from every lord in Ferelden asking me all sorts of questions about it. Even your friend, The Grey Warden, was here only this evening."

"Dwemer was here? What was he after, I wonder?"

"He was asking me about the letter, as well as asking questions of the chantry members."

"Was that the guy you were with the other day?" Edalweiss asked, "you know, the big one with the long hair."

Alistair nodded affirmative, still keeping his main focus on Brother Cantarus.

"So that was _The_ Grey Warden that I've heard everyone in Ferelden fawning over? He seemed so big and tall. I'm going to have to get a closer look the next time I see him."

"How can you see anything? Your eyes are always closed." Alistair retorted smugly, bringing a fierce grimace from the small woman.

"If you weren't so stupid, maybe I would tell you." she shot back.

"I hate to interrupt, your majesty, but was there something you needed to see me about?"

"Yes, there was." Alistair replied, returning his attention to Cantarus, "There has indeed been some trouble at the palace and it has become necessary for me to remain out of sight for several days while The Warden and Arl Eamon can correct a slight oversight. Until then, I'd like to make use of one of your empty rooms."

"I do apologize, your majesty, but I can't do that." the old brother regrettably informed.

"Excuse me? Are you denying me asylum at the chantry? I've never heard of such a thing."

"I am sorry, your majesty. Truly I am. But the revered mother is angry enough with me as it is for neglecting my duties. It didn't help matters when groups of armored men started showing up and asking questions about the letter. The revered mother would have my head on a pike if I drew any more attention here."

Suddenly, Alistair found himself oddly having to plead. "But nobody knows I'm here, not even The Warden. It'll only be for a few days and then I'll be gone." he said.

"But there's a risk that someone could find you. There always is. And they would be twice as mad at us for hiding you from them and possibly choose to take out their anger on the chantry, or worse, its patrons."

"I have nowhere else I can go. I'll be recognized anyplace else. Please. Isn't there anything you can do?"

"Unfortunately, the Chantry has its own affairs to look after and doesn't wish to get involved in your current predicament. I tried speaking to the revered mother, but it was no use. I'm sorry, your majesty."

"I guess I'll have to hide out someplace else. But I don't have any ideas where." Alistair said as he thought.

"If you weren't so mean you might have more friends that would help you." Edalwiess mumbled while she folded her arms and made a grumpy face.

"That isn't helping right now. This is serious. If those people find me, they can bring me back to the palace and put me on trial." Alistair replied, using his calm voice of authority once again.

"Did you do what they say you did?"

"No, of course not."

The small woman's face changed from displeasure to one of thought; her brows scrunched up and her mouth cocked to the side. She appeared to be wrestling with something. An idea perhaps. Whatever it was, it didn't take long for Edalwiess to reach her conclusion and announce her decision.

"I know a place where you can stay for a few days." she said.

"Oh really? Where?"

"You can stay with me."

* * *

The next morning, all the lords and ladies had all once again gathered in the palace hall. This time, however, the king was absent. And while each of the assembled nobles had been made aware that the king had gone missing, none of them had the slightest clue where he could be. Hushed murmurs could be heard as rumors began to spread their way through the crowd.

It didn't help matters that Bryland began pushing the others for a vote of no confidence while he pointed at the vacant throne as proof. Eamon furiously defended Alistair's actions, pointing out all of the king's deeds since the Blight had ended, even referring to Alistair's days as a Grey Warden in the hopes that it would help his cause. But the recent events of the past few days overshadowed everything.

"How can you possibly consider holding Alistair accountable for something he didn't even do?" Eamon asked Bryland as the two men debated at the head of the room.

"Alistair is guilty of his own crimes: He attempted to cover up his father's treason. He ran off to West Hill to retrieve the damning evidence before anyone else could find it and then passed it off to a member of the Chantry for safe keeping in an effort to hide it."

"That's preposterous. You don't have any sort of proof that Alistair covered anything up. He's not guilty of anything." Eamon retorted strongly.

"If that is so, then why has he run off, hmm?" Bryland asked with an almost serpentine slither, "Why now, when Ferelden needs him to settle the land disputes? Disputes that, if left unsettled, could lead to bloodshed."

"Alistair hasn't _run off_ anywhere. He's still here in Denerim attending to very important matters that, unfortunately, prevent him from attending these proceedings at this time. He will return when he is able."

"That's ludicrous!" Bryland shouted, "He's the entire reason we all came to Denerim in the first place. Without his presence, these proceedings are pointless. What sort of business is our mighty king attending to?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that with you. What we need to focus on now is having each claimant prepare their case in order to have it ready when the king does return. That would do much to expedite the process."

"Do you take me for a fool, Eamon? Everything you've said here today has been nothing but a pack of lies. You're only trying to prevent the inevitable. But I'll not wait for justice any longer."

Bryland turned to address the gathered lords and ladies, "The time has come for us to right a terrible wrong." he announced loudly, "Even if you do not agree that Alistair should be punished for treason, there can be no denying the proof of who should rule. It was Loghain Mac Tir who freed us from Orlesian bondage. The throne was rightfully meant for him. Due to a grave error, that right was never fulfilled. I call for a vote of no confidence in the king so that we can replace him with someone more suitable."

"Don't you think you're moving a bit to hastily, Bryland? Alistair hasn't even been gone a day. Think about what you are proposing. You need to keep your wits about you instead of leaping headlong into rash acts." Eamon pleaded as he tried to reason with his counterpart.

"There is no other way, Eamon." Bryland replied, "you brought this on yourself. Had you simply let him face an inquiry and stand trial, none of this would ever have happened."

Bryland turned to face the gathering once more, "I say to you again, what will it be? Do we correct our errors, or do we continue down a path to chaos? Show your vote now!"

To Eamon's horror as his old eyes gazed out across the hall, slowly, one by one, hands started to go up. Ferelden tradition held that of the twenty four lords gathered, at least sixteen of them must show their vote in order for the motion to carry. If there were enough, that meant that Alistair had officially lost all support from Fereldens lords. He would lose all political backing and support. In effect, stripping the legitimacy of his rule. After which, the lords could vote to place a new ruler on the throne.

Eamon watched nervously as the first few hands went up. These came from obvious supporters of Bryland and their display was of little surprise. But as the hands continued to go up, the pit of Eamon's stomach balled itself up in a knot as he watched the fourteenth and fifteenth hands raise into the air. There was a pause as the hands stopped coming. Eamon held his breath, nearly daring to hope that all might be lost. Then, up came the sixteenth hand. Perhaps worst of all was who the hand belonged to: Bann Eustana Thailenari.

"Eustana?" Eamon asked, shocked. The woman said nothing, only bowing her head to hide her eyes from view.

The old statesman cast his eyes over his shoulder and glanced at The Warden who stood leaning against the wall. The Warden's grim expression mirrored his own. It was going to take some doing to be able to undo this mess.

* * *

Morrigan was on the street with Seth just outside the palace gate. She was haggling over the price of some spices she desired with one of the many vendors that could be found setting up shop on any of the streets in Denerim. Even though she loathed coming to the capital city, the witch used the time to procure some of the more rare and exotic items that she used which couldn't be found anywhere else. The spices were vital to some of the potions and elixirs she would be brewing when she returned to the cottage outside Highever.

Morrigan was greeted by her warden coming out of the palace just as she was finishing her purchase. Even as he strolled the short distance to the witch and their son, Morrigan could tell by the look on his face that something wasn't right. She was about to be the recipient of some very dreadful news. She was sure of it.

He greeted her with his usual kiss, and even though he was acting normally, she could sense the tension in his lips as they pressed against hers. Releasing the witch, he bent down to scoop Seth up in his arms, saying "There's my big man." as he did, causing the tot to giggle and squeal.

"Greetings, husband." she said in a pseudo chipper voice, expecting to hear the worst, "I take it by the scowl on your face that all did not go well at the landsmeet."

"That's putting it mildly." he replied, "They've taken a vote of no confidence in Alistair. The lords refuse to stand behind him. That means he through as king."

"Am I to understand that Alistair is no longer king, then?" the witch asked as she rolled her eyes and grinned wickedly, "Oh, how the mighty have fallen." she said.

"I'm sure you're just pleased to no end, aren't you?"

"What? I have said nothing." Morrigan shot back defensively.

"So what do the lords intend to do now? Surely they must put someone on the throne."

"They'll have to call another vote to agree to show support for a new ruler. In this case, that's most likely going to be Anora. I've already been told that she's going to be brought here in the morning from her family's estate just outside the city so the landsmeet can make it official." The Warden explained. "But why Anora? Someone has gone through a great deal of trouble to see her put back on the throne. I can only guess why."

"I am almost afraid to ask where all this leaves us, but I shall ask it anyway."

"Our goals are still the same. We have to prove that someone tampered with the letter. If we can do that, then this whole nightmare will just disappear."

"Suppose you do find your proof. What then? 'Tis unlikely Anora will give up her place so easily. Do you not recall how insistent she was to remain queen the last time?"

"We'll have to work fast. We have until the vote tomorrow morning to turn something up. I've run into a dead end concerning the person who may have taken the letter, but seeing you here has given me an idea. I'm going to ask the vendors outside the chantry. With any lucky one of them will have seen something."

"That may be a wise move. 'Tis often the eyes you never thought were watching that saw the most." Morrigan agreed, "I take it that I shall be examining the damning piece of evidence in question while you are otherwise occupied? I will need my focus in order to do so. Seth shall remain with you so that I might better work."

The Warden looked deep into his son's golden eyes, "What do you say, big man? Do you want to help me catch some bad guys?"

Being invited on such an expedition excited the youth greatly. His little chubby hands shook as he clapped them together loudly. "Yes!" he shouted, unable to contain himself.

"Dwemer!" the witch scolded, "the last thing our son needs is encouragement from you. You shall ask the vendors your questions but do not put our son in harm's way under any circumstance."

"Do you honestly think I would do something to put Seth at risk? That's insane. He'll be perfectly safe with me."

"He had better be." Morrigan said with a glare that echoed her seriousness. "Now take me to this letter so that I may begin my work."


	10. Chapter 10

**Part X**

The Warden, his witch, and their son, made their way across the city from the royal palace to the Market District, which lay in the northern part of the city. There, nestled in a corner near the city walls and away from all the hustle and bustle of the vendors and shops, was the stoic Denerim chantry. The three of them entered the building, with Seth resting comfortably in his father's arm, through the large wooden doorway at the front.

Once inside, the trio headed for Brother Cantarus' workshop in the rear of the chantry. The Warden chose to use the lesser traveled passages and corridors in order to keep from drawing attention to himself and Morrigan from the chantry faithful who were gathered there as usual. Having found the good brother toiling diligently at his work, The Warden politely asked Cantarus if he could make the troubling letter available to Morrigan so that she could examine it for any sign of magical alterations. The old brother was only too happy to give the letter to the witch and get it out of his sight after all the fuss it had created. He tossed a leather pack across the wooden bench towards the witch saying as he did, "Here, do what you need with it. Just get that horrid thing away from me."

"I guess I should check up on Alistair while we're here...see how he's doing."

"True." Morrigan agreed. "He has been on his own for nearly a day. 'Twill be no small wonder if he still breathes."

"The king?" Cantarus asked in a nervous and shaky voice, "I haven't seen him. As far as I know, his majesty hasn't been to the chantry at all in more than a month. I would guess that his kingly duties prevent him from attending services regularly. But he comes when he can, I'm sure."

"That's odd." The Warden noted. "I figured this to be the first place Alistair would head for."

"As did I." the witch concurred with a slight nod.

"I do apologize, my lord. But the king just hasn't been here. I'm sure I would have heard about it if such a guest were staying among our humble brothers and sisters." the old brother said, trying to sound as sincere and convincing as he could.

After thanking Cantarus for his help, The Warden, Morrigan, and Seth all made their way back outside, again trying to stay clear of the main corridors. Unfortunately, though, the three of them had to brave at least a few admirers when they appeared from the side passageway and walked toward the front entrance. As was always the way in Ferelden, wherever The Warden went, people noticed. Even after The Warden and his witch were able to politely excuse their way through the group of gawkers that started to assemble and make it through the doors, they could still feel the curious stares of nearly everyone standing in the chantry compound. The Warden was well aware that there were already many rumors spreading through the streets like wildfire to explain his presence at the chantry this day.

"One would get the impression that the righteous and noble brother is keeping something hidden." Morrigan said as they stepped out of the darkened stone halls and into the bright sunlight.

"I was getting that, too. But he is an old man who's been under terrible strain for the past few days. He's probably just exhausted."

"Perhaps. Although such things are rarely explained so easily." Morrigan said as if she was filing the matter away for future reference if needed.

"What are your intentions regarding Alistair?" she asked. "I gather your aim is to look for him, is it not?"

"I'm going to have to, aren't I? Ferelden will be needing its king, after all."

"Twas my understanding that Alistair is no longer the king." Morrigan pointed out.

"That's only a minor setback...nothing we can't fix" he quipped, brushing off her negativity.

"Somehow, I fail to share your confidence. Were you to ask my opinion, I would say that none of this shall be remedied so easily. It will take a great deal of work and effort, with a fair share of that work being put forth by me."

"That's why I love you." he said, grinning mischievously.

The witch let out a long sigh and rolled her eyes, "Impossible man." she said.

"First, though, we need to find out who might have tampered with the letter. It won't matter if we find Alistair but still don't have any evidence to support him. I'm sure he's fine where he is until we can locate him."

"'Tis probably for the best. Although, I do suppose we should make some amount of haste. After all, Alistair has not shown the ability to care for himself in the past, I doubt if his skills have improved any. Having been on his own for this long may have already damaged him beyond repair."

"You think this is all very amusing, don't you?" he asked as he cocked his head to the side and rubbed his chin.

"Had it not involved me, then yes, I would find this entire situation to be quite humorous, indeed." Morrigan replied. "But alas, this tangled skein has somehow managed to snare even me within it's grasp. Though, Alistair's misery nearly makes the entire situation worthwhile."

"I'm sure Alistair will be thrilled to know he's kept you entertained."

"Indeed. And this is where I leave you." Morrigan announced, propping herself up on her tip-toes so that she could give him a parting kiss. "With a few hours of uninterrupted study, I shall be able to reveal any secrets this letter may hold."

"I'm hoping that it won't take me long to ask around a few of these street merchants. We'll meet you back at the palace in a few hours." The Warden replied, still having to bend down slightly to receive her kiss.

"If you are even slightly late, you can expect the guards to come looking for you." the witch warned.

"We'll be fine. You worry too much."

Morrigan gently grabbed the back of her son's head and pressed her lips against his forehead in a tender and motherly parting kiss. "I shall see you soon, dearest." she said while she held her own forehead softly against his. "Behave yourself for your father."

"Look, mutha!" Seth cried out excitedly, not paying Morrigan any attention, while his chubby little finger pointed to what had caught his interest. "Horsey!"

"That's not a horse, Seth." The Warden corrected. "That's an ass. They just look very much alike."

"Horsey!" the child shouted again. "I wanna see the horsey!"

"How like your father." Morrigan said, shaking her head. "So easily distracted by even the slightest things."

"He's two, Morrigan. He does that."

"And what would your excuse be?" she shot back, grinning a bit. "Sundown, Dwemer. No later. Am I understood?"

"Yes, _mother_." The Warden replied, groaning the last bit for emphasis.

"As usual, your attempts at humor are misplaced. Do not fault me for having concern for your well being, especially given that Seth will be with you." the witch huffed, folding her arms.

"I promise, I'll run away as fast as I can at the very first hint of danger."

"I have your word, then."

"Go. We'll see you this evening." he said, chuckling a bit at her insecurity.

The witch blushed slightly when she realized how she was behaving. She grabbed his arm one last time to caress it lightly before moving her hand to stroke her son's cheek. She slowly backed away, then turned and headed off in the direction of the royal palace.

After Morrigan had vanished from view, The Warden turned to his son, whose large round eyes were busy trying to take in all the new sights in front of him. "It's just us now, Big Man. You ready?"

"Da, look! Horsey!"

"I'll take that as a yes."

The Warden, with Seth riding high on his shoulders, rounded the wall that guarded the chantry grounds and stepped towards a small cluster of street vendors that had been set up just beyond. All three of these vendors were women of greatly varying ages. But they did have one thing in common: All of them were instantly taken with Seth. The ladies oogled over the small child; making comments on how adorable he was and asking were he got such jet black hair and beautiful golden eyes. Seth, of course, gobbled up the attention as if it were his main source of nourishment.

It seemed that having his son with him made his task much easier. The women were open to answering all kinds of questions about who they saw going in and out of the chantry. Sure enough, all three ladies reported seeing the young man race out of the chantry and dart around behind the corner of a building next to the alley. This, though, was all they were able to see. Once the man had gone around the corner, none of the women saw him again until he came flying around the building again at a full run.

The Warden thanked the ladies for their time and help before moving on to the next pack of vendors on the other side of the chantry. The ladies waved and smiled at Seth as he and his father moved off, causing the young Cousland to bury his face against his fathers chest in mock embarrassment while his wild giggling was muffled by his father's shirt.

At the next set of vendors, all of them men who didn't seem nearly as interested in Seth as the women did, The Warden repeated his actions, asking each of them who and what they had seen in the past few days. Within only a few minutes, Seth began to wiggle and squirm in his father's arm, growing more and more impatient. But as before, none of the merchants could offer any other information than what he already knew. If there was someone with the young man who was assisting him, none of them saw it. The Warden thanked the men for their time, and much to Seth's approval, moved on.

And so it went for several hours, with The Warden going from one merchant to the next and questioning them. The only thing he was finding out was that the farther from the chantry he went, the less people had seen anything. Most of the outlying booths and carts scattered at the far end of the Market District hadn't even seen a young man racing out of the chantry at all, let alone anyone helping him. If there were thieves, as The Warden suspected, then they were proving to be very adept at covering their tracks.

There must have been something he missed, The Warden thought to himself. Denerim was as busy a city as any in Thedas; home to several hundred thousand people. Surely someone somewhere had to have seen something. The thief and whoever may have aided him simply couldn't have vanished into thin air, could they? But he had gone around to all the merchants he could find who were setup outside the chantry. After hours of asking around, he still didn't know much more than when he first started.

It was then that The Warden remembered his initial suspicions that a mage was somehow tied into all of this. He'd seen Morrigan do many wondrous and amazing things with her abilities and had been witness to countless others with similar talents. Most of it he had little or no understanding about, it was confusing and foreign to him, but he did know enough to figure that if magic was involved, nothing could be ruled out. For all he knew, they very well could have literally vanished.

"Who dat, Da?" Seth inquired as he pointed over his father's shoulder at someone approaching them.

"Uh-huh." The Warden replied, mindlessly. His thoughts were busy elsewhere.

"Da!" the child said again, this time patting his little hand against The Warden's shoulder, trying to get his attention. "Who dat?"

Finally, the child broke through and his father looked back in the direction Seth pointed. "Huh?" he asked as he snapped out of his daze.

"Mister Grey Warden, ser!" a boy of about thirteen shouted as he waived and ran to where The Warden's stood. The lad stopped next to The Warden, bending over and putting his hands on his knees while he tried to catch his breath.

"Can I help you?" The Warden asked, casting a curious eye at the boy.

"I was watching you from over there..." the boy said, pointing back in the direction he came from, "I know you've been asking around about anyone seeing anything strange over at the chantry."

"That's right. I was." The Warden confirmed with a nod, "Why, did you see something?"

"Yes ser, I did."

* * *

Morrigan peeked out through the large and decorative window and into the city below. Then sun was hovering lower and lower in the sky and The Warden had still not returned with Seth. The witch was starting to get anxious. When her husband was out conducting his business she worried enough, but this time he had their son with him. Morrigan was starting to find it hard to concentrate on her own work as she glanced out the window once again, only to see the sun had dipped even lower toward the horizon and still no trace of The Warden or Seth.

She was fortunate enough to have the letter to keep her busy while she waited, but as the hour grew later she was finding even that did little to keep her mind from wandering. Her fingers tapped against the hard wood of the table and she bit her lower lip, trying hard to remain focused on her task. But it was no use. Her mind kept going back to wondering when her two men would return.

Finally, as the sun the settled itself down for the night and darkness once again began to creep across the city, the wooden door to the chambers burst open and The Warden strolled into the room, Seth passed out asleep in his arms.

"'Tis about time!" the witch huffed.

The Warden's only reply was to place his fingers to his lips and gesture towards the sleeping child he carried. He slowly walked over to the child's bed and carefully placed the slumbering tot within, pulling the warm blanket over Seth and making sure he was comfortable.

"The sun still hasn't set all the way. We made it back in plenty of time." he said in a hushed tone.

"When I said 'sundown', I had hoped you would have taken the hint and returned somewhat beforehand." she shot back, placing her hands on her hips as her face formed into a scowl.

"I told you there wasn't anything to worry about. All we did was walk around the Market District and ask questions, like I said I was going to." he replied, trying to defend himself.

Even though the witch didn't seem completely satisfied with his answer, she said nothing. Instead she walked over to where he sat down to pull his boots off and stood next to him, placing her hand against his shoulder and rubbing it lightly.

"Dwemer..." she said softly, "I've no intentions of being the nagging wife. 'Tis something neither of us wants. My only wish is for you to acknowledge your responsibilities. Have you even considered what were to become of Seth and me should something happen to you?"

His large blue eyes stared directly into her soft golden orbs. "I told you already. I'm through fighting. My blades are still packed away in the trunk, remember? All I did was ask a few questions. This wasn't much of a problem before, why all the concern now?" he replied as his hand went up to grasp hers and give a good squeeze.

"_Before_..." the witch started, "we did not have what we do now. We have a family...one that is growing...unless you have forgotten."

"Ah...I think I understand now." he said knowingly. "This is the pregnancy talking, isn't it?"

"Do not be absurd." she shot back, "I am merely stating the obvious."

"So this has nothing to do with you being pregnant?"

"Can I not simply say that I worry over you without being viewed as an overly emotional girl? You are my husband, after all. 'Tis you who protects and provides for this family." Morrigan said defensively. "Without you, Ferelden would hold nothing for me."

"That's not true. Fergus and Alistair would never let anything happen to you or Seth and you know it. They would do anything to make sure you are both taken care of."

"You are quite aware 'tis not what I meant. I need no one to 'take care of me'." the witch retorted, fixing her golden eyes on her warden. "You are going to force me to say it, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"Bastard." Morrigan grumbled. "I worry about you because..."

"Go on..." The Warden urged.

The witch let out a long, disgruntled sigh before finishing. "...because I _love_ you."

"There now. That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

"Ass. You know as much, yet you still feel the need to coerce me into saying it repeatedly."

"When it comes to hearing you say those three words, I would face Flemeth, the archdemon, and Denolian at the same time if that's what it took."

"How well I know that you would. Although for the life of me I cannot understand why."

"You don't like to hear me say it to you?"

"Must we delve into this now? Surely there are more important things that we should be discussing."

"Answer the question first."

The witch let out another grumble, then relented. "Yes, of course I enjoy hearing you say it to me."

He reached his arm around her and pulled her closer to him. With his other hand he gently lifted her shirt so that her naked belly was exposed. He lightly touched his fingers against it, searching for the life that was growing within and causing Morrigan to flinch just a little as his light touches neared her sensitive navel.

"This right here..." he said, "this is all that matters. This is why I'm doing it. Our children deserve a better place to be brought into. We have to change things for them if for no other reason."

Morrigan's ran her fingers through his long hair as he held his head against her stomach, "Change comes at a cost, my love. And even then 'tis often met with great resistance. Is it a price you are willing to pay?" she asked.

"For you? Absolutely." he affirmed heartily.

"I fear even your shoulders may not be broad enough to carry such a burden alone."

"I'm lucky I have you, then."

"Yes, you are." Morrigan agreed without hesitation, "However, if we are to make a brighter future for our children, we must first attend to the situation before us. Tell me, was your time spent today fruitful?"

"Surprisingly, yes it was." The Warden answered, still putting most of his focus into stroking Morrigan's stomach.

"How do you mean?"

"I went to every merchant around the chantry I could find, but none of them could tell me anything I didn't already know." he explained. "That is, until a young boy came up to me. He saw me asking around the Market District and offered to tell me what he knew."

"And did this boy know a great deal?"

"Actually, yes, he did. He said his name was Elias, and he told me that he and a few friends were playing in the back alley behind the chantry when they spotted a man standing in the shadows near the edge of the alleyway. He said they watched as a young man came running around the corner and gave the mysterious stranger what looked like a folded piece of parchment. Elias couldn't tell for sure, but he says it looked like the figure did something to the parchment before handing it back to the boy a few minutes later."

"It appears that you may have found your evidence at last."

"Maybe so. But that's not all of it. Elias said he also knew who the young man with the stranger was. He didn't know the man's name, but Elias told me he'd seen him hanging around the Gnawed Noble."

"Not surprising since, we, ourselves have had dealings there. Your thief could be working for the barkeep. I trust you intend to interrogate him?"

"I plan to go there in the morning, bright and early. With luck, I'll be able to have the evidence I need to at least force the landsmeet to investigate further before taking a vote to restore Anora. Together with the letter, we'll be able to put things back the way they were...the way they need to be."

"Ah, the letter. I had nearly forgotten it." Morrigan said as if remembering something important. "It seems that you are going to have to confront the nobles without it."

"Why so? What happened to the letter?"

"Nothing happened to it. I was able to examine it thoroughly. However, therein lies the problem. I could find no trace of magic at all."

"What are you saying?" he asked, finally turning his attention from her belly and looking up at her.

"I am saying the letter was not altered."


	11. Chapter 11

**Part XI**

The building was little more than a cramped, two-story shack on the edge of the Market District, barely a stone's throw from the gate to the elven alienage, but it would do for what Alistair needed it for: A hideout. By his reckoning, he wouldn't be there more than a few days before his friend, The Grey Warden, came to collect him, and then everything could go back to normal; as normal as could be expected, that is.

His host had politely offered him a small and rickety old cot to use for a bed while he stayed that smelled distinctly of fish. Muirghein, the cot's normal occupant, had begrudgingly agreed to give up his place after a bit of convincing from Edalweiss.

"He might be a jerkface, but I think he means well." she told the demon. "Besides, you know I'll throw you a few extra pies for being so nice."

Muirghein swished through the air, giving chirps and clicks of approval.

The prospect of receiving even more delectable treats to fill his endless gullet convinced the floating fish to go along. While the creature might have originated in the Fade, he found that human food, especially tasty pies, was a treasure all its own. Edalweiss often used food to urge her companion to do things he might not otherwise be up for, and he would often invent tasks for himself just to get her to bake him some more pies.

Alistair may not have been the most adept person when it came to matters of etiquette and protocol, even though he was raised in a castle and had been around nobility his entire life, but he tried very hard to be a polite and appreciative guest. For most other people the oddness of the situation might have been unbearable, however, he was used to being tossed around and discarded like yesterday's trash. He spent nearly his entire childhood being bounced from one place to the next, always being passed off as the unwanted bastard that he was. In his youth, he often found himself in a new place where the faces were unfamiliar to him. For once, those experiences were proving useful. If there was anything Alistair was good at, it was adapting to new surroundings. Although, Morrigan would probably say it was his only skill.

"I just wanted to thank you again for allowing me to stay here for a few days. You have no idea how big of a favor you're doing me." Alistair said as he checked out the cot's sturdiness.

"As long as you're nice to me, I don't mind." she replied. "But if you start being mean to me again, I'll have Muiren show you out."

"That little fish? What can he do?"

"Start acting like a jerkface again and you'll find out."

Alistair didn't say anything rebuff the small woman. Common sense told him it was probably best if he didn't press the issue to find out. "What's the deal with you two, anyway?" he asked.

"He's my friend. We take care of each other." she answered, giving Muirghein a few stroking caresses with her fingertips while he purred with contentment.

"That's not what I meant. I mean, how did you end up with him?"

"_End up with him_?" Edalweiss repeated almost as if she were offended by his question. "He's not a pet."

"I don't understand. If he's not a pet...what exactly is he?"

"I told you, he's my friend." she reiterated. "Don't you have friends?"

"Yes, of course I do. I have plenty of friends...well, maybe not plenty, but I do have them."

"There are actually people who willingly spend time with you?" the small women quipped.

"Very funny." Alistair replied sarcastically. His lips started to form words, but just at the last second, he was able to stop himself. He was going to say that at least his friends were real people and not some creepy fish-ghost, though he figured that might get him kicked out into the street. Then he remembered Morrigan. If he, himself, was known to be in the company of an apostate, then he was just as guilty as she was for hanging around with a demon. And he had to admit, the creature seemed nice enough. Every other demon Alistair faced in the past would have already attacked him by now. "I was just wanting to know how you two came to be together, that's all." he said, refining his inquiry.

"Oh, well why didn't you say so in the first place?" she asked in return.

"Muiren and I have been together for a long time...many years. It's been so long that I sometimes have trouble remembering what my life was like before he found me." the small woman explained.

"Before he found you?"

"That's right. He found me. When I was a small girl..." Edalweiss cut her sentence off as she saw Alistair's face and knew instantly what he was thinking. "I _mean_ young." she clarified.

"What? I didn't say anything?"

"You were going to make some remark about my height."

"Well you have to admit..."

"Do you want to know or not?" Edalweiss shot back making a frumpy face.

"Alright, alright. I'll just stand here quietly and listen." he said, trying to appease her.

Once Edalweiss was satisfied that he was going to make good on his word, she continued. "When I was a child I had an accident, as you probably already guessed by the scars on my face. Some oil containers caught fire and exploded. My parents did their best to shield me from the blast, but my face was still burned very badly. I was blinded. Both my parents were killed by the accident."

"That's terrible." Alistair noted sympathetically.

"It was very frightening for me. But that's when Muiren showed himself for the first time. He'd been watching me for a while; I'm not really sure how long, but when he saw I was in pain he came to help. He took my burned out eyes and used them to remain in our world and in return he allows me to 'see'. We've been together ever since." Edalwiess explained. "I know it's hard to believe or understand, but I wouldn't even be here without his help."

"I understand more than you think I do." Alistair replied as his thoughts drifted to the old enchanter, Wynne. He felt badly because he hadn't thought of the old mage in quite a while and he had forgotten how much he missed her. She was the only real mother figure he'd ever had.

"Is something wrong?" Edalweiss asked when she noticed him drifting off into thought.

"What? Oh, no. Nothing." he answered snapping himself back to reality.

* * *

The sun had barely begun to rise in the eastern sky when Morrigan was awakened by the most odd and curious feeling. Her stomach was tied in knots and danced about inside her as if it were trying to get her attention for something. Not long after she noticed it, the fluttering inside her gut changed to waves of intense nausea and she started to break out into a cold sweat. Her skin was becoming clammy and damp. She groaned weakly and flung the heavy blanket off of her as she rose out of her comfortable spot and staggered toward the garderobe, trying desperately to keep her gut from rejecting its contents before she made it.

She fumbled with the garderobe throne lid until her uncooperative hands were able to finally lift the lid back just in time as she vomited violently into the large hole beneath. Afterward, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and knelt on the floor, resting her head against the cool stone bricks as beads of sweat trickled down her forehead. This was her first real bout of morning sickness since her pregnancy began. It was something she had to endure with Seth early on when she was carrying him and it was one part of motherhood she hadn't missed at all.

She sat there for a few moments until the queasiness passed and she was able to find the strength to climb to her feet. If there was one thing in the world that Morrigan sorely hated, it was being nauseous. Normally she had a number of elixirs and brews that could handle the sickness in a matter of minutes, but in this instance, she refused to even consider them. She feared that the child growing in her belly could be adversely affected by the concoctions, and after the failure of her previous pregnancy, the witch wasn't going to take any chances.

She returned to the bed chamber and found that her warden had already left. She didn't know exactly when, but she thought it couldn't have been too long ago. The witch was known to sleep like the dead so she was never aware of his departure, which was probably how he wanted it. Morrigan figured he had gone to the Gnawed Noble tavern in order to intercept the bartender before he was able to open for the day. There was even a note he left on the table scrawled in his horrid handwriting confirming as much. At least, that's what she thought the note said. When it came to her husband's awful script, she often wondered how he was even able to read what he wrote, himself.

Beside the note he left her was the letter Alistair found in West Hill. The witch sat down in the wooden chair and stared at it for a while, wondering how such an innocent looking piece of paper could cause so much trouble. This simple parchment had done in only a few days what no one else had been able to do in years of trying: Usurp the throne of Ferelden. Morrigan yawned deeply, still trying to shrug off her slumber, and rested her chin against her hand as she read the letter once more.

_My lord, _it read, _I wish to inform you that everything has gone exactly as planned. With the aid of Maric I have been able to convince the fools to make their attack at West Hill. As you suggested he would be, Maric has been quite helpful. Once I was able to seduce him, he readily agreed to offer any assistance I required. His companions are none the wiser, including that troublesome fool, Loghain._

_Even now, we are heading north to your position. You can anticipate our arrival in two days. Do what you wish to the rebel army. Slaughter them to the last man if it suits you. I expect, however, that our agreement will be honored and safe passage will be given to both myself and Maric. _

_Signed, Katriel_

Quite a damning piece of evidence, indeed, the witch thought. If all was as it seemed, and Morrigan had no reason to think it wasn't, then Maric was the traitor Bryland had claimed him to be. She felt there was little her warden would be able to do to reverse that. As with most things, heroes and saviors were never what they appeared to be. It was a sad fact of life Morrigan embraced early on. Her husband was just too pig-headed to accept it. Still, she did what she could to support her warden. He had often been right when everything else pointed to the contrary. He could very well be correct about all this too. Nothing he did surprised her anymore.

The witch was frustrated by the fact that even though he managed to to keep his promise to her, outside forces beyond her control were still able to force them into yet another situation in which she and her warden had to play nursemaid to an entire nation. If not for him, though, she would probably have done very little to help preserve the normal way of life for the people of Ferelden. Kings and empires rise and fall. Great cities are built, only to crumble to dust a few centuries later. Change is the natural way of things. One could only fight against that harsh truth for so long. Morrigan feared The Warden was only delaying the inevitable. But that was his way and she had to accept it just as much as he accepted who she was. That didn't mean she had to like it, though.

* * *

The Warden tried to be as much of an optimist as he could be, but given the circumstances there wasn't really much point in it. He'd spent the better part of the last few days tracking down an elusive thief, following a trail that grew colder by the minute. However, after hours of asking questions around Denerim and following any lead he could come by, at long last he found the end of that trail. But as before, it seemed whoever was truly responsible for the current mess was a few steps ahead of him. For in front of him lay the body of the young thief he'd been searching for. Whoever it was that paid the man to steal the letter made sure he'd gotten his final reward.

The poor man's throat had been slit from one side to the other and his body was tossed unceremoniously in a pile of rubbish behind the Gnawed Noble. It was obvious that his body was meant to be discovered by The Warden. It was to serve as a message. A message telling him to give up his futile efforts and not to interfere. Normally such a thing would only cause The Warden to be even more determined, but seeing as how the young man was his only lead, there wasn't much else he could do. Despite his best efforts, it didn't appear as though there was any way he could prevent the landsmeet from putting Anora back on the throne.

It was a depressing end to what had started out as a promising morning. The Warden had been able to talk to the Gnawed Noble's barkeeper and learned from him that the man had indeed done some work, and even when and where to expect the man to be. After all his trouble, hope filled The Warden that he might be able to finally catch up to his elusive quarry and get the answers he'd been seeking. And as predicted, when he went to the spot behind the tavern directed to him by the barkeep, it didn't take long for him to spot the man he sought. The only problem was that somebody else found him first. Now he was dead, and with him any hope of finding out who was responsible for the recent chain of events. With nothing left for him to do, The Warden slinked back to the royal palace. He reckoned that if he hurried, he could still make it to the landsmeet before the lords and nobles took their vote, although at this point there probably wasn't anything he could do to stop it.

When he arrived back at the palace, he learned that the landsmeet was already in session. Apparently the lords wished to get an early start so that Anora could be placed on the now-vacant throne as quickly as possible. The Warden reasoned that it might be for the best at this point, seeing as how having Anora on the throne was far better than having no one at all. And, in truth, Anora wasn't a bad queen when she ruled before. She was actually quite skilled in diplomacy and the ways of politics. But a great deal of that may have come from her father, Loghain, who was now dead; killed by Alistair's own hands over three years ago.

"Ah, Warden." Arl Bryland chimed triumphantly when he saw The Warden make his entrance into the great hall. "I'm so glad you could join us. I would hate for such a historic occasion to be without Ferelden's favorite son."

"Save it, Bryland. I'm not in any mood for your games." The Warden retorted with bitterness.

"It pains me you feel that way. I was so hoping you might have had a change of heart."

"Don't count on it."

"Strange words coming from the man who will be the first to honor our once and future queen." Bryland quipped, grinning wickedly.

"What are you talking about?"

"Do I really need to explain it to you? You disappoint me. I figured if there was anyone who could understand, it would be you. While the landsmeet might vote to restore Anora to her rightful place, the general populace has other ideas. It seems they've become attached to the former king. Why, it's no secret that Alistair is one of your very best friends, and like it or not, that carries a great deal of weight with the citizens of Ferelden. Without such an endorsement he probably would have floundered a long time ago."

"So you want me to show my support for Anora, is that it?"

"Ah, perhaps I was wrong. You _do_ understand, after all."

"Forget it, Bryland. It's not going to happen." The Warden shot back fiercely.

"Oh, but I think it will. That is, unless you _want_ the former king...your _friend..._to be hunted down like a dog and imprisoned for treason against the crown."

"You're a real bastard, you know that?"

"That may be so, but at this point your options seem to be very limited. So what's it going to be, Warden?"

"So if I show my support for Anora, you'll leave Alistair alone?"

"Those are my terms. Do you accept?"

"It doesn't seem like I have much of a choice, do I?"

"No, it doesn't."

"Alright, I'll agree to what you ask. I'll show my support for Anora as queen. But mark my words, Bryland, some day soon your plans will fall to pieces, and I'll be there waiting for you when it comes." The Warden said with disgust ringing in his voice.

"Perhaps, Warden, but not today." Bryland replied smugly.

And so it came to pass that Anora was voted to be restored to the throne of Ferelden by a vote of twenty one to three, with the only dissenters being Arl Eamon, Teryn Fergus, and Bann Teagan. The Warden, popular with the people as we he was, wasn't a true member of the ruling elite and was therefore not able to vote on the issue. Not that it mattered much. There was little doubt the lords had predetermined their decisions long before the vote was even taken, rendering the actual tally little more than a formality.

Never before had The Warden felt so utterly defeated. Everything he tried had ended in failure; something he was very unaccustomed to. It was a jagged and bitter pill which left a large lump in his throat and a foul taste in his mouth. Still, he vowed to himself to keep searching for a way to put Alistair back on the throne.

Anora may have been a competent queen, but she lacked compassion and held a certain disconnection from the populace she ruled. She had little empathy for those around her and The Warden, himself, knew she could be as cold and calculating as any power hungry politician. There was no denying that all of this had been arranged for a reason, some hidden purpose The Warden had yet to uncover. But there were also other concerns, more immediate concerns that hit far closer to home than he liked.

Now that Anora was headed back to the throne, that surely meant Bryland would make another grab from a larger chunk of the northern bannorn, and if he was as successful with that as he was in parlaying for Anora's rule, the entire Highever teynir could be in jeopardy. The lands The Warden's family had overseen for countless generations could be carved up and handed out to Bryland and his supporters. And with the situation the way it was, there would be precious little The Warden or anyone else could do to stem the tide that was sure to come.

His only hope lay in finding the source of the upheaval. He was sure Bryland was just as much of a pawn as the poor thief he found dead in the back alley. But he didn't have a clue as to who or why anyone would want to turn the entire Ferelden ruling class upside down. He was sure he wasn't seeing the whole picture, but what else was there? What had he missed?

Why would someone go through all the trouble of stealing the letter and killing the thief when it hadn't even been altered? He could only assume that some of the people he talked with over the past few days weren't entirely truthful with him, but he didn't have a clue who. Not that any of it mattered now, anyway. It was far too late. Anora would be the first ruler in Ferelden's long history to have a second coronation, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to change any of it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Part XII**

The small woman, Edalweiss, had left a short time ago to tend to some errands while Alistair stayed behind, still unsure about being caught out in public. Muirghein volunteered to remain as well, in order to keep Alistair company, or so he was told. In truth, Alistair suspected the creature was spying on him. There something behind those fishy eyes that he didn't trust. Every demon, no matter how nice it appeared to be, had their own agenda, why should this one be any different? So the two eyed each other suspiciously from across the small room.

The thing had certainly been bold in it's approach, Alistair thought. Muirghein seemed to try adamantly to make gestures of friendship toward him. But he wasn't going to be so easily fooled. No amount of playful rubs or cute little dances through the air were going to sway him. Demons were not to be trusted, and that was that. And if the demon couldn't be trusted, he knew he had to remain wary of Edalweiss, too.

She was Nevarran, or so she said. But she didn't act like any other Nevarran Alistair had ever met. Most others from Nevarra tended to fall into two distinct categories: Elitist snob, or scruffy barbarian. And Edalwiess definitely wasn't either of those. Although, he'd never been there, himself, he had heard all sorts of stories from those who had, and none of them painted a very interesting picture of the place.

On the other hand, she also said that her mother was Fereldan and she spent a lot of time here when she was a child. She'd even been living in the country for a few years, now. Maybe, Alistair thought to himself, she was the type of person that comes out when you mix Ferelden with Nevarra. If that was the case, it was quite obvious why it didn't happen more often. Nobody could be that happy and bubbly all the time without having something seriously wrong with them.

The hours seemed to drag by slowly as the two of them waited, neither one acknowledging the presence of the one across from them, yet both making it perfectly clear that each was closely watching the other. And there they sat, silently passing the time until Edalwiess' return.

As soon as the steady sounds of thumping feet on wood could be heard, Muirghein sprang up from his spot and swished through the air, headed straight for the door. Alistair was reminded of how Leo would react each time his master would return after being away. The fish swirled and swooped back and forth in anticipation with a bright gleam beaming in his eyes. He became more excited the closer the footsteps got, until they were coming from just the other side of the door.

When the door opened and the small woman stepped inside, Muirghein could contain himself no longer and quickly pounced on Edalwiess, smothering her with his fishy body as he wrapped himself around her in what looked like a big warm hug.

"Gmmph!" Edalweiss gasped, surprised by the attention while the fish squeezed itself against her body. "Alright, Muiren! I missed you, too, but you don't have to suffocate me." she was finally able to say after catching her breath.

Satisfied that she had been properly greeted, Muirghein next shifted his focus the knapsack Edalweiss had slung over her shoulder. He buried his face deep inside, inspecting the contents for any delicious treats she may have brought for him, very nearly tearing the thing from the poor woman's shoulder in the process.

"If you eat everything I brought back I won't be able to make any pies." she warned the creature who instantly stopped his rummaging and his fishy head popped out of the knapsack as if to ask "Just one treat?"

"Fine. You can have a small snack now. But only one." she relented, much to the joy of Muirghein who dove right back into the sack, coming back out a few seconds later munching on a mouthful of ripe delicious apples.

"He sure does like to eat." Alistair noticed, gesturing toward Muirghein who was still busy gulping down the sweets apples.

"It's his favorite pastime." Edalwiess replied as she removed the knapsack from her shoulder and set it down on a large wooden table that stood in the tiny kitchen.

The rumbling in Alistair's stomach reminded him that it had been a while seen he, himself, had last eaten. "I don't suppose you brought anything for me in that sack?" he asked a bit sheepishly.

"Maybe..." she answered coyly. "But from what I heard while I was at the market you might not need it."

"What are you talking about? What did you hear?"

"It looks like you don't get to be the king anymore. You've been replaced."

"Replaced?" Alistair asked, more than a little shocked by what he heard. "They can't just replace me, I'm the king. Dwemer would never let them get away with that."

"That's your friend, right? Isn't he supposed to be some kind of big hero or something?"

"I told you, he's the Grey Warden. He's only saved this country more times than I can count...and I can count pretty high."

"Uh-huh." Edalwiess said, unphased. "Well, whoever he is, he wasn't able to stop them from putting someone else on your throne. There's going to be a coronation for someone named Anora."

"Anora?" Alistair gasped. "That bitch!"

"You know her?"

"You might say that. We've had our dealings in the past. She's not terribly fond of me after what I did to her father."

Edalweiss' ears piqued up with interest, "her father? What did you do to him?"

"I killed him." Alistair replied sternly and without remorse.

"That's awful!" Edalweiss exclaimed. "Why would you do something like that?"

"Believe me, he had it coming. He was responsible for the deaths of thousands of men, including nearly all the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Only Dwemer and me escaped. And we wouldn't have made it out if we hadn't been rescued by Flemeth."

"Still, I wouldn't like you much either if you killed my father."

"There has to be some mistake." Alistair said as he sat down to think. "I'll bet Anora was behind the whole thing. Bloody witch never wanted me on the throne in the first place. It would be just like her to pull something like this. I need to find Dwemer and find out what's really going on."

"Do you know where you can find him?"

"He's staying at the royal palace. I have to get back there."

"Are you sure that's a smart idea?" The small woman inquired with what appeared to be genuine concern. "I mean, what if you're spotted by those men who were after you?"

"That's a risk I'll have to take. I was never any good at doing things the smart way, anyhow."

"I can't say I'm surprised by that." Edalwiess quipped with a sly grin.

"Hey!" Alistair shot back. "That isn't what I meant."

* * *

The vote had been taken and there was nothing left for The Warden to do. He tried to find the source of the conspiracy to remove Alistair from the throne, but he had failed. The entire affair left a bad taste in his mouth, one that he couldn't get rid of no matter how much ale he consumed. And seeing as how the royal palace was about to pass into the hands of someone else, anyway, The Warden felt it was time for he and his witch to leave.

The pair quietly packed up their belongings without saying much of anything. Morrigan was aware of her husband's thoughts and feelings, almost as if she were having them herself, not that they were incredibly hard to decipher in the first place. He'd been moping around ever since the landsmeet. Whenever she did try talking to him, his responses were mono-syllabic, if he even said anything at all.

She was tempted to scold him for his sulking, but chose not to. Instead, she gathered up her and Seth's things and placed them in the various packs and sacks they had carried with them from the cottage in Highever. After she finished with each pack, Morrigan would call for one of the palace servants to bring it down to the small cart that awaited them at the front gate. As much as she hated riding in the infernal thing, she understood her warden's caution. At least it gave them an adequate means of transporting both their items and their son, who was still far too small to make such a long trip without the benefit of the cart. Still, it would be three dreary days at minimum for the three of them, along with Leo, to make the trek back to the cottage; their home, which, having been neglected for this long, was no doubt becoming more overgrown by the minute.

And even though neither of them spoke it, both The Warden and Morrigan knew there was one last task to attend to before they were completely free to return home. But the witch feared the task of tracking down Alistair might not be as simple as her warden hoped it would be. To her knowledge, he had never been on his own for this length of time before and it was anyone's guess as to what kind of condition they would find the wayward former king in, if he was even still alive. The witch didn't want to admit it to anybody, least of all herself, but she couldn't help feeling concerned for Alistair's well being.

The very idea of it infuriated her. But try as she might, Morrigan found herself repeatedly hoping for Alistair's safe return. Although, what happened after they did locate him, she didn't have the slightest clue. Still, she quietly grumbled to herself, cursing Alistair for his irresponsible manner.

When all their belongings had been packed away and loaded onto the cart, The Warden, with Seth in his arms, and the witch made their final preparations to leave. After seeing that nothing was left behind, The Warden hoisted his young son into the cart and gave a loud whistle, altering the mabari, who came barreling down the steps from the large main doors, that it was time to go.

As Morrigan climbed into the cart, refusing any assistance from her warden as she did, they spotted Fergus as he made his way toward them, having just come from a meeting with Arl Eamon and Bann Teagan. The look on his face was a somber one as slowly walked down to steps to the courtyard where the cart was.

"All packed up and ready to go, I see." was his greeting to his brother.

"I figured it was best to get an early start. I want to get as much ground behind us as I can before nightfall." The Warden replied.

"Lucky bastard. I wish I was joining you, but I have to remain her until after the coronation. Anora wants to have a meeting with the ranking lords after the ceremony. She would probably like to have you there as well."

"Nobody can have what they want all the time, not even queens." The Warden retorted with a bit a smugness.

"Or Grey Wardens, for that matter." Fergus quipped in response.

"I have to get back home, there are things I have to do there." The Warden replied, brushing off his brothers comment. "She's just going to have to have the meeting without me this time. I'm done fixing everyone's problems for them. From now on, their on their own."

"So you're going to limp back to Highever with your tail between your legs, is that it?"

"Stuff it, Fergus. I don't need this right now." The Warden huffed. "Besides, it's not like there's anything left I can do. Bryland won and that's all there is to it."

"You're right, quitting is probably best. It certainly is easiest. But what about Alistair?"

"I'm going to track him down before I leave Denerim. He's not the most subtle guy there is, so it's not like he'll be too hard to find."

"That isn't what I mean. You and I both know he's the rightful king. He's the one who should be on the throne and not Anora."

"So what? It's not like I can do anything about it. It's too late. The landsmeet made its decision. They want Anora."

"I see." Fergus said. "So you're just giving up, then?"

The Warden made no reply. Instead he shot his brother a look that confirmed what the Teyrn feared. The fight had completely disappeared from The Warden's eyes. Never before had Fergus seen his brother look so defeated.

"Fine. Have it your way. But I'm not giving up yet. If we can prove that Alistiar was set up, they'd have no choice but to reconsider."

"Don't you get it? There's something much bigger at stake here than just Alistair. Someone has gone through an awful lot of trouble to make all this happen and I doubt they're going to let it be undone so easily."

"That isn't going to stop me from trying." Fergus replied. "Look, Dwemer, I know this has been very rough for you. Alistair is your friend. I get it. If anyone knows how much you hate losing, it's me."

"I hope you can do a better job of it than I did. But be careful. I have a feeling that something big is about to play out."

"Like what?" the teyrn asked.

"I'm not sure. All I know is that Bryland couldn't have done all this on his own. He had to have help from somewhere." The Warden answered. "Think about it. We've known for years that he wanted to get his hands on more of the northern bannorn; ever since Lothering was lost to the darkspawn. But Bryland was always a good arl. Hell, he even put his support behind Alistair as king. That means something had to change for him. Whether he's helping them willing or not, I don't know. But without knowing who his benefactor is, there isn't not much anyone can do. And right now I have more important concerns."

"Like taking care of that pregnant wife of yours?" Fergus asked while a sly smile crept across his face.

Morrigan and her warden stared at each other in shock, wondering if the other had somehow let the secret slip. "Oh, don't act so surprised." Fergus said. "The way you've been treating her like she was fragile, it wasn't too hard to guess."

"'Tis entirely your fault." Morrigan hissed at The Warden. "Did I not tell you that your constant doting was neither warranted nor required?"

"Don't worry, you two. Your secret is safe with me." the teyrn reassured with a slight chuckle. "In any event, I'm needed at Arl Eamon's estate. There are some things he wants to go over before the coronation this evening. You best be on your way before you get dragged even deeper into this mess."

With that, Fergus grabbed his brother's shoulder and gave a good squeeze before turning to his nephew and saying, "You keep these two out of trouble for me, alright?" while playfully mussing the boy's hair. With a final wave, Fergus turned back up the stairs and headed back into the palace.

"Do you even have the slightest clue where we might find Alistair?" the witch asked after Fergus had left.

"I know he still has to be somewhere in Denerim. He wouldn't have left the city." The Warden answered as he lifted the last of knapsacks into the cart and prepared to climb aboard. "Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll find him close by."

"You have no idea." Morrigan quipped, pointing her slender finger at two figures approaching through the main gate.

"I'll be damned." The Warden muttered as his eyes caught the pair walking towards him.

Sure enough, it was Alistair and a companion. The Warden squinted his eyes to make sure he was actually seeing what he thought he saw, but there was no denying it. It was Alistair. He was with a small woman who didn't seem to be much bigger than a child. It didn't take long for The Warden to recall that it was the same woman they'd seen a few days ago outside the Gnawed Noble tavern; the one who caused all the commotion.

"It seems Alistair has found a stray." Morrigan quipped with a smirk.

"Dwemer!" Alistair called out when he saw his friend. "Maker, am I glad to see you."

"We were just about to go looking for you. Some things have happened in the past few days." The Warden replied as he held out his hand, which Alistair accepted and gave a good stiff shake.

"I heard." Alsitair said. "So it's true that the landsmeet decided to make Anora queen, then?"

"I'm afraid so. I tried to stop it, but wasn't able to. I'm sorry, Alistair."

"It's not your fault, Dwemer. I'm sure you did all you could to prevent it."

"I wish felt the same way."

"Are you not going to introduce us to your companion?" Morrigan asked.

"Where are my manners?" Alistair said, having almost forgotten the woman with him. "Dwemer, Morrigan, this is Edalweiss. She's been a really big help to me. I owe her a great deal."

"Ah, the 'kicker'." Morrigan noted. "I remember you."

"She certainly has a way of getting her point across, that's for sure." Alistair replied, looking down at Edalweiss.

"My, Alistair, you do have a way with the ladies." Morrigan teased sarcastically. "However are they able to resist such incredible charm?"

"You're so big!" Edalweiss chirped admiringly at The Warden, who towered over her small frame.

"And you're...not." he replied with his usual facetious demeanor.

"I suppose we should count ourselves fortunate. After all, he appears to be all in one piece." Morrigan said as she looked Alistair over.

Alistair's face turned to one of utter surprise, "Do my ears deceive me? You almost sound like you were worried." he gasped.

"Bah!" Morrigan shot back while she folded her arms is disgust, as if she were repulsed by the very idea. "I can assure you 'twas not out of any concern for your safety. I merely despise the thought of having to search all Denerim for your miserable carcass."

"So I _was_ right." Edalwiess said, looking back up at Alistair. "You do annoy everyone you know."

"Oh, I do like her." Morrigan announced while beaming a broad smile.

"I guess it must be pick on Alistair day." Alistair grumbled. "What a comfort."

"Welcome back, buddy." The Warden teased as he wrapped his arm around Alistair's shoulder and gave a few stout shakes.

Just then, Edalweiss caught sight of the small boy who was desperately trying to hide from view behind his mother. "How precious!" she exclaimed.

Turning her attention to Seth, she asked, "And who might this handsome young man be?"

"Mutha...?" Seth muttered shyly as he ducked behind Morrigan.

"That's Seth." Alistair informed.

"He gets bashful around strangers." The Warden added.

"And they don't get much stranger than her." Alistair quipped to his friend, which was soon followed by a loud "Yeow!" as Edalweiss let him know of her displeasure with his comments.

"Stop kicking me!" He shouted at her.

"Stop being a big jerkface!" she hollered back.

While Alistair hopped around trying to shake off the throbbing sensation in his shin, Morrigan turned to her warden. "Now that we have found Alistair, might I inquire as to what you intend to do next?" she asked.

"Next...we go home." he replied flatly.

"Go home?" Alistair gasped. "I don't understand. What about Anora?"

"What about her? She's going to be the new queen. I thought you hated being king, anyway."

"I do. Or at least I did. But it's not like I have anything else to do." Alistair said while he rubbed his chin and thought. "I suppose I could head north to Vigil's Keep with the other Grey Wardens, or maybe even get back into the Templar Order."

"You don't sound very enthused about it. I figured you'd be ecstatic about getting your life back."

"Funny isn't it? I thought I would be to. I would even daydream about not being king anymore, but now that it's actually happened..." Alistair paused as his eyes fixed on The Warden. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to get my throne back."

"I'm sorry, Alistair." The Warden replied. "But I can't help you. I have things of my own that I need to deal with."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The Warden cast a glance at his witch. Her brows bent down into a cold scowl that said _Do not dare tell him_! "Morrigan is pregnant. I need to take her home." he said, ignoring her warning and causing her to glare even harder at him.

"That's all well and good for you. But what about me? What about Ferelden?" Alistair questioned as his confusion grew. He'd never known his friend to give up so easily, especially when so much was on the line. "You can't just walk away. Dwemer, I need you."

"I'm sorry. You'll have to do it without me this time. I'm done fixing everyone's problems. It's time I started focusing on my own."


	13. Chapter 13

**Part XIII**

The hours after The Warden's departure almost seemed like some sort of odd dream to Alistair. He was sure that his friend would have done anything he could to help him reclaim his throne, but that turned out not to be the case. Instead, The Warden made it very plain that he was no longer interested in having anything to to do with this entire mess. It put Alistair in a new and uncomfortable position. He had never had to rely on himself to fix things before and he wasn't quite sure if it was something he was able to do. After all, if the great Grey Warden had failed, what chance did he have?

He saw The Warden as he lead his family through the palace gates on that ridiculous looking cart of his. But even as he watched he didn't actually think his friend was really going to leave. Alistair was sure that at any moment inspiration would strike and The Warden would come up with a plan to put everything back into it's proper place, just as he always had before. Alistair knew in his heart that there wasn't any way that The Warden would ever let him down, at least that's what he always thought. But from the look in his friend's eyes as he was leaving, Alistair wasn't as convinced of that anymore. Deep in his gut, he knew The Warden was serious when he said he was giving up.

"I thought you said he was going to help you." Edalweiss had said as they both stood in the palace courtyard. "You told me he was some sort of hero or something."

"I don't understand it either." Alistair replied to her, still somewhat shocked and confused.

But, as it turned out, that wasn't even the worst of it. For not much later, he was informed that Anora wanted to meet with him before her coronation. He wasn't even given a chance to locate Arl Eamon beforehand to let the old statesman know that he returned, as one of Anora's servants, who were all busy moving the new queen's things into the palace, insisted he do as he was asked immediately.

It was a surreal scene to say the least. Alistair walked through the palace that only days before had been his but now belonged to someone else. At Arl Eamon's urging, he'd left as king in order to avoid getting mired in a political mess only to return as a lowly commoner barely a few days later. His whole world had turned upside down and he hadn't even been there to see it.

And not long after The Warden's departure, members of Anora's household began arriving with her things and went to work bringing them into the palace and tossing Alistair's belongings out in the street, where a small crowd gathered to pick the pile clean of anything valuable. He tried stopping the mob as best he could, with Edalweiss even lending him a hand, but there were just too many of them as they made off with some of his most cherished things. It wasn't long before all that was left on the ground were a few scraps of clothes laying among other odds and ends of cluttered junk.

It was then, as he stood frustrated in the street just outside the palace gates, that one of Anora's servants approached him and told him of Anora's wishes. She wanted to meet with him, and knowing what a conniving woman she was, Alistair reckoned it probably wasn't to offer her condolences for everything that had happened to him. More than likely it was going to be even more bad news.

"You probably do want to go with me. There's no telling what that woman has up her sleeve." Alistair told Edalweiss before he went inside. "There's no need for you to get into trouble, too."

"If you say so." she replied. "Muiren and I will just head back home, then. You know where to find me if you need to."

"Thanks. Let's hope I won't need to."

He headed to what used to be his library and found Anora there talking to some of her subordinates, who were making final preparations for that evening's ceremony. She looked much the same as she did the last time Alistair saw her, when he ordered that she be locked away in the tower. Her blond hair was rolled into two neat buns against the back of her head and she was wearing a red silken skirt with a white blouse. He was certain that now she that she had the chance, she was going to repay him the favor, or possibly even worse.

"You wanted to see me, Anora?" he asked.

"Alistair." she said in a falsely cheerful tone that cut right through Alistair when she saw him. "How good of you to come."

"It's not like I had anything else to do." he replied tersely. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Come now, don't be that way. We haven't seen each other in some time. You look well...considering."

"Considering what? The fact that you stole my throne from me?"

"I know none of this must be very easy for you. If anyone can understand, it's me. But I am willing to forget about the past. I would like to focus on the future, instead."

Alistair's face scrunched up in confusion. "How do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean that you don't have to worry about any retribution on my part." she answered. "There's no sense in opening old wounds."

"Well, that's a relief." he said in a smug tone. "There must be some other reason you had my things thrown out into the street, then."

"I do apologize for that. Some of my servants can be a bit...over zealous. But what's done is done and there isn't any sense in dwelling on it, not when there are more important things we need to focus on."

"Like what?"

"Well, you being a far better ruler than I ever thought possible, for one. I congratulate you for proving myself and many others wrong."

"I still don't follow you. How is my being a good king important?"

"Simple really: The people of Ferelden love you. Not just for your heroics during the Blight, but also for the way in which you've acted as king. And therein lies the problem." she said, pausing for a moment as she deliberated on how to proceed. "You see, even though the lords and nobles of Ferelden rightfully chose me to be queen again, your popularity with the people could put a strain on that. It would best if that could be avoided."

"So you want me to offer my support to you, is that it?"

"Well, no. While your support would be appreciated, your good friend, The Grey Warden, has already taken care of that. As I'm sure you know, his popularity is even greater than yours, so the people will have little choice but to accept me as queen. Still, your presence here could do much to divide the people and undermine my authority. I'm asking you to leave Denerim and find some secluded spot to start your life over."

"Leave Denerim? You mean you're banishing me?"

"Banish is such a strong word. I'm asking you to do what's in the best interest of Ferelden. Besides, I was under the impression that you didn't even like being king. I'm giving you the chance you've always wanted."

"You're insane!" Alistair exclaimed while his frustration started boiling over. "And suppose I say 'no'."

"Unfortunately, I can't take no as your answer. I'm sure you understand." Anora replied with a pseudo sympathetic tone. "This is the same as before, when Arl Eamon wanted you to be king. You didn't want to, but in the end you realized what was best and you did your duty. This is no different."

"I see. So your just brushing me to the side, then?"

"I am sorry that it has to be like this, Alistair. But we all must do things we don't want to for the greater good. Cailan understood that."

"I'm not my brother." Alistair huffed. "Fine. I'll leave the city. But don't get too comfortable in that throne. I'll be coming back for it soon enough." and he turned and stormed out.

* * *

Nightfall was creeping its way across the land, stretching dark fingers over the countryside to envelope the land once more in night's cool grip. In one of the many large meadows that covered this area of Ferelden, The Warden and his family had set up their camp. They were able to travel a good distance in the day and a half since leaving Denerim behind, and with luck, would be arriving home sometime around the next evening.

As much as he tried to act like nothing was bothering him, Morrigan was no fool. She knew better. Even though he was behaving as if everything was normal and that he couldn't wait to get back to their quaint cottage under the Visparis Oak, the witch could tell he was hiding how much losing to Bryland stung. If anything, he was too talkative and far more easygoing than he normally was, which was saying a great deal, considering his usual mannerisms.

Near the campsite a small stream bubbled and gurgled its way through the lush meadow, peacefully meandering back and forth as it wound its way to the forest edge far in the distance. The Warden sat on the creek bank staring blankly up at first stars as they began to make themselves known against the darkening sky. He wondered to himself about many things while he sat there. He thought about what his life might have been like if it hadn't changed so abruptly on that fateful night more than five years ago. He also wondered if there was indeed some divine plan set forth by some all powerful Maker that set him on the path to being who he'd become. He questioned whether this was the price he had to pay in order to be with his witch. And when he thought of it in those terms, he still felt as though he had gotten the better end of the bargain.

He was still sitting quietly beside the stream when Morrigan found him there. She plopped herself down beside him and asked in a stern tone, "still moping about like some child who has lost his favorite toy, are you?"

"I wasn't moping. I was thinking." he replied, still staring up into the sky.

"You imply disparity where none exists." she retorted. "Do you honestly believe I am not aware of what you are feeling? It might be you who possesses that infernal connection to me, yet that does not mean I am any less aware of how you feel. And _you_ are moping."

"You don't understand."

"I understand perfectly well. The great and powerful Grey Warden has tasted defeat at last. I am left to wonder how a man who has suffered so much for the sake of so many can so readily resign himself to wallowing in his own self-pity."

"I'm not wallowing in anything. I'm just tired of playing the hero all the time."

"Is that so? I've never known you to lie down in the face of an enemy before, no matter what the stakes or how incredible the challenge."

He turned to face his witch, saying, "where is all this coming from? You didn't even want me to get involved in the first place, remember? You were the one who got angry at Alistair for even asking me to attend the landsmeet." clearly exasperated by the situation.

"I am also not in the habit of dealing with you feeling sorry for yourself. 'Tis most unbecoming."

"What would you have me do, Morrigan? Do you want me to go back to Denerim and kill Bryland and Anora? What would that solve?"

"Doing so may lead you to the source of the problem. One would think their master would come calling to investigate why his lackeys had been dispatched."

"It would also make me a criminal and only serve to divide the nobles while they searched for another replacement."

Morrigan let out a loud grumble. With a hard push, she shoved her warden backwards against the cold dirt, holding him down with one hand as her other dove into his trousers. "What are you doing?" he asked, completely shocked by her sudden behavior.

"I am searching for your balls. The last I saw, they were where they were supposed to be, but have apparently vanished since then. Maybe _they_ are what we should be searching for."

"Now who's trying to be funny?"

"'Twas not my intent to be humorous. The strength of your resolve has always been of great attraction to me. I do not wish to see it disappear."

"I haven't lost anything." The Warden said, grabbing her arm and pulling her closer on top of him. "But you don't understand Ferelden politics like I do. Without anything to work with, there's nothing I can do to restore Alistair to the throne."

"I understand a great deal more than you realize." she replied, staring deeply into his eyes with her piercing gaze. "I understand that you shall accomplish nothing by giving up. Is that what you truly desire?"

"Of course that isn't what I want, but what I want doesn't matter."

"Only if you choose to give in to defeat," the witch remarked, "which I have never known you to do."

"Of all the people I'd expect to want me to keep going, you would be that last. After all the fussing you did about wanting to me retire so we could be together, you have to admit it is a bit out of the ordinary for you."

"As I have already stated, there is no point in our rushing off with you pouting like some child. If there is truly nothing to be done, as you say, then there seems to be little point in dwelling on the matter. You did what you could, which is still far more than most. But you are just one man, Dwemer Cousland, Grey Warden or not, and even you sometimes fail. There may never have been anything you could have done to avert the outcome. 'Tis best to put this entire affair behind us and be done with it."

"I guess you're right." The Warden said thoughtfully.

"You say that as though there were any doubt." Morrigan replied, casting him a sly grin. "If we are to live our lives in peace, then you must resolve to put this out of your mind and think of it no more. I'll not have your thoughts lost in what could have been."

"Yes, my lady." he quipped, smirking.

"Impossible man." the witch huffed. "Now, are you ever going to make love to me, or shall I have to do that myself, as well?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"If you do it yourself, do I get to watch?" he asked, only half joking.

"Ass. I've a mind to leave you to your misery. You may count yourself fortunate that I do not."

"Silly witch." he chuckled. "I count myself fortunate each and every day that I have you with me."

"As well you should."

His expression turned serious as his blue orbs focused intently on her golden ones. "I love you." he said to her.

"And I, you." she returned softly.

He leaned his head up until his lips found hers and pressed against them, wrapping his strong arms around her slender body and holding her tightly against him. Her pent up passion was conveyed to him through their kiss, as she threw her arms around him and let her urges loose. Her hand went to the back of her head and pulled the small comb holding the bun in place, letting loose the long raven strands so that they could fall freely to her shoulders, after which, she dove back in, kissing him deeply.

With a move that was as quick as it was gentle, he turned the tables on her so that it was she who was laying on her back against the ground. And having his prey exactly where he wanted her, his lips proceeded to ravage her defenseless body as he found the sensitive spots behind her ears, kissing his way down her long neck. His hands went to the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing the unwanted garment to the side in the tall grass and freeing her naked breasts to his touch. With no fear of being heard or spied upon by young eyes, Morrigan didn't even bother containing the low moans of pleasure that escaped her while his practiced hands and mouth worked their magic on her. And almost without her noticing it, he slid her skirt down so that she was now completely bare beneath him. He leaned back so that his eyes could take in all of her and absorb her beauty.

Her slender fingers found their way into his shirt and tugged it open, revealing the hard and sculpted muscles of his chest that years of swinging heavy blades had produced. Her hands freely explored his body, roaming down to his trousers and pulling them down, exposing the stiffness of his manhood. A wicked smile crossed her lips when she saw it. "Do you intend on using that thing?" she asked in a sultry and seductive tone.

"What's your hurry?" was the response he gave as he looked at her with a gleam in his eye the witch instantly recognized.

While his mouth placed soft kisses around her ticklish navel, causing her to jump uncontrollably, his hand went between her thighs and parted them, opening up the treasure she kept hidden inside. The witch purred as his mouth crept ever closer to the inviting folds. He positioned himself between her legs and let his tongue dance in large circles around her center, nearly driving her insane from want. He let the tip of his tongue tease as it slowly ran up one side of her inner thigh, then hopping across and over her throbbing core, only to skirt down the other. At last, when she felt as if she could stand no more, he reached his hands underneath her, firmly gripping her fleshy cheeks, and dove in.

Unknowingly, her hips began gyrating against his mouth, as if they possessed a mind of their own, while he feasted on her juices. Her hands went to the back of his head, pressing against it and urging him even closer. Her moans became louder as the fire in her loins threatened to burn totally out of control and consume her. Waves of ecstasy washed over her, causing her whole body to shudder and spasm beneath him. "I must have you...now!" she cried out breathlessly.

He willingly obliged his witch and slid himself between her legs, his stiffness penetrating deep into her until he buried his entire length inside. A low groan came from him when he felt the heat radiating from her. The urgency in their eyes told the entire story. A story of two lovers who had waited far too long to feel the pleasure that only they could give each other, and now that they had the chance, they were making every minute of it count.

Slowly he started to move in the rhythmic dance of the lover's embrace. He would nearly pull himself out completely before thrusting back within her again with slow and steady strokes, each time making sure to press tightly against the hard little button that ached for his attention. The intense sensation of her tight grip on him drove him closer to the edge as his movements became ever faster. His hips pounded against hers, driving her deeper into the soft grass. Beads of sweat formed on his brow and trickled down the side of his face as his efforts grew more ardent.

"Yes! Do not hold back!" Morrigan exclaimed in her delirium brought about by ecstasy.

Unable to contain himself any longer, he thrust one final time, burying himself as deeply as he could and flooded her with his seed. He gave out a long moan and nuzzled his mouth against her neck while he released himself inside her. Strong waves of passion ran through both of their bodies until, at last, the storm subsided bringing with it a soothing calm.

When it was had passed, he rolled over and laid next to her in the grass, his chest still heaving greatly. He put his arm around her and brought her closer to him, with her resting her head contentedly against his chest. Her fingers traced small circles on his skin while his stroked through her long ebony strands as his eyes turned once more to the heavens.

"I suppose one of us should be looking in on our son." Morrigan said with a sigh, enjoying the comfort and closeness of him and not wanting it to end.

"He'll be fine for a few more minutes. Leo's keeping an eye on him." The Warden replied. "Seth was a tired little man after all the traveling we did today. You probably couldn't wake him if you tried."

"Perhaps. But I still feel 'tis best for us to attend to him. We must also get our rest, we've a long day tomorrow, as well."

"You go on ahead. I'll be there in a bit."

Instantly, Morrigan fixed her scowl on him, "Oh no you don't. You will not ruin this evening by abandoning me so that you may return to your pouting." she shot back.

The Warden chuckled. "I wasn't going to pout, I swear. I'm just not tired yet."

The witch remained unconvinced and started to say, "You are a terrible..." before he cut her off by placing his finger gently to her lips, smiling as he did.

"I'm telling the truth." he said. "I just want to be out here and enjoy the stars for once. It's something I haven't been able to do since we lived in the shack."

"As you wish." she relented. "However, I shall remain with you, lest you get any fool notions in that head of yours."

"The only notions in my head are about you."

"Impossible man." she grumbled, laying her head back against his chest.

And there, under the starlight, the two of them enjoyed a closeness they hadn't shared in some time. Before long, the witch drifted off in his strong arms as she had done so many times in the past when it was just the two of them. It was something the neither of them realized how much they had missed. It was the only time she truly felt safe and secure, and it was the only time his restless soul was ever content. It was a quiet moment of peace that was all too fleeting. For with the uncertainty that tomorrow always brought, both of them knew the tranquility could never last.


	14. Chapter 14

**Part XIV**

By all accounts, Anora's coronation was a stunning and grand event, something to truly behold. All the most powerful lords in the land were in attendance to show their support for the new queen, even though some of those participants where there unwillingly. Teyrn Fergus, Arl Eamon, and Bann Teagan all stood together looking rather grim and saying nothing while the crown of Ferelden was placed on Anora's brow once more. There was a loud ovation when the new queen turned to face her subjects. At the end of the ceremony, 1000 white doves where released into the air as a sign of the coming peace and prosperity that her reign would usher in. The citizens of Ferelden, still not really quite sure why there was a new ruler, celebrated anyway. Any excuse for a party was reason enough for them.

It went without saying that the landsmeet had been postponed until several days after the ceremony while Anora took the reigns of government over and acclimated herself to her former position yet again. She had spent the past few years in seclusion at her estate just outside Denerim after having been released from prison and needed to be briefed on all the important issues facing Ferelden if she was to be an effective ruler. For that information, she turned to her trusted adviser, Arl Bryland.

The two of them recently enacted a plan that would serve to provide for the country's future for years to come. And although the plan wasn't without its cost, both felt that the end more than justified the means. Sometimes sacrifices and compromises had to be made in order to realize the outcome one desired.

Elsewhere in the city, Edalwiess was more than a little surprised when the knock at her front door turned out to be Alistair. He was the last person she thought she would see standing in her doorway. He looked even worse than he did the last time he was at her small house. His presence told her right away that things hadn't gone good for him and by the expression on his face she could tell that it was probably even worse than she figured.

He stood at her door with the most somber expression she'd ever seen anyone have. He looked more like a dog that had been beaten by its owner and cast out into the cold than he did a strong king and former Grey Warden. The gleam was missing from his eyes as he stood there on her porch, shoulders hunched over and head hung low.

"I take it things didn't work out." she said.

"You might say that." he replied with a sigh and a shrug. "Can I come in?"

Without hesitation, she moved out of the way and gestured for him to come inside, sticking her head out the door after he entered and quickly scanning the area to see if anyone else was watching. When she was satisfied that they weren't being spied on, she went back in and closed the door behind her. "You look awful." she noted.

"Thanks for noticing. It's been a rough day."

"It looks like it. What happened?"

Alistair began to relate to the small woman what had happened to him since they last saw each other at the palace the day before. He told her about his meeting with Anora, and about her banishing him from Denerim because of the threat she feared he posed to her rule. He also told her that he had been able to make contact with Arl Eamon, but only for a few brief minutes after the coronation ceremony, before he was ushered out by the palace guards, who just a few days ago only took orders from him. He said he didn't hold it against them, though. They were just doing their duty. They even seemed more than a little apologetic about it, but there wasn't really anything they could do. But at least Eamon knew he was alive and well, and that was the important part.

Still, he was a man without a home. Everything he once had now belonged to someone else. Alistair was right back where he started five years ago: The unwanted bastard son of a dead king. He had come full circle. Everything he'd worked for in the past few years was for nothing and he was once again someone to be hidden away from view for fear that he might have eyes for the throne.

The only difference was that this time he did have designs on getting his throne back. And Alistair knew there was only one person in all Ferelden who could help him do that, no matter how much he didn't want to.

"I'm going to Highever." Alistair announced.

"I've heard of that place. Isn't it by the sea?" Edalwiess asked.

"It's a fishing town on the coast of the Waking Sea." Alistair confirmed. "That's where The Warden lives. His brother, Fergus is Teyrn there. But not for long if Bryland and the others have their way."

"I see." she said thoughtfully before perking up to ask, "So when do we leave?"

"Eda, I appreciate everything you've done for me. Really I do. But I don't think it'll be safe for you to go with me. You'd be better off just getting on with your life here in Denerim."

"Pffft." the small woman shrugged away his concerns. "It seems to me that if anyone needs someone to look after them, it's you."

"I'm being serious. I don't think they're actually going to let me leave that easily. Anora knows I intend to get my throne back so more than likely they'll have someone coming after me. They're not stupid. They'll try their best to stop me before I can get to Dwemer."

"All the more reason to have someone with you, don't you think?" Edalwiess pointed out. "You won't be able to take on everyone by yourself. You're going to need my help whether you want it or not. Besides, it's not like I have anything better to do."

Alistair grumbled. "Alright, you can come. But don't say that I didn't try to warn you."

The small woman let out a triumphant squeal and rushed to collect her things. "You'll see, it'll be fun." she said while she grabbed her knapsack and hastily threw the things she needed inside.

"Right. Fun." Alistair groaned, shaking his head.

* * *

The queen was busy instructing her servants as they made changes across the entire palace. She wondered how Alistair managed to ruin so much of the place in the short time he called it home. Almost nothing was as she left it before. The rugs were filthy, the draperies horrid, and nearly everything else was out of place or mismatched. It was a complete mess.

Now, however, she was back in power. All was as it should be, she thought to herself. While Alistair might have been a far better king than anyone figured he would be, Anora was still the far superior ruler in her mind. He lacked her sensibility and grace when it came to matters of state. His heavy-handed approached served to get Ferelden back on its feet after the Blight, but his clumsiness with diplomacy had cost the country many outside alliances. All that was in the past now. Thanks to Anora, a deal had been brokered that would lead Ferelden into a new golden age of prosperity. Never again would the people have to fear the yolk of oppression.

It was Arl Bryland who first informed her of the idea. He had been contacted by forces outside Ferelden that had a vested interest in the country's welfare. They knew Alistair, being far too paranoid about such things, would never allow a foreign power any say at all in Fereldan politcs. They knew Anora was far better suited for those types of dealings and that her calm demeanor was exactly what was needed. It was better for everyone involved if it was she on the throne rather than Alistair. So that's exactly what they made happen.

As with all things, though, restoring Anora's rule was not without its price. But in Anora's mind, the price wasn't nearly so steep as one might think. As a matter of fact, when all was said and done it seemed that all parties involved would be getting everything they wanted and the citizens of Ferelden would be better off for it. If Alistair hadn't been so short-sighted in the first place, none of this would have been necessary. The queen was thankful for once that he was.

One of the palace servants quickly shuffled up to the queen. "Your majesty, you have a visitor" he said with a humble bow. "Lord Raythorne awaits you in the foyer."

"Thank you, Elan." Anora replied as the man gave another deep bow and sauntered off.

Raythorne was someone Anora was not looking forward to dealing with. He was the man who had arranged everything that transpired so far. It was he who first approached Bryland and laid out everything that could be gained with his help, and seeing as how so much was depending on the lucrative offer, the people whose interests Raythorne served couldn't permit Bryland the opportunity to deny them. To that end, certain assurances were acquired to foster a more cooperative attitude on Bryland's behalf. Raythorne had entrusted Bryland to build his power base so that he would be able to convince the other nobility in going along with Raythorne's scheme, and having the proper motivation, that's just what he did.

"Lord Raythorne, it's so wonderful to see you again." Anora said as she greeted him in the large grand foyer of the palace. He was busy staring at one of the large paintings on the wall.

"Yes, isn't it, though." Raythorne replied in an oily an slithering tone. His voice thick with an Antivan accent and he didn't even bother to turn and face the queen, continuing instead to focus on the painting "A truly disgusting piece or work, as are most things in this horrid place." he concluded.

"Do what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?" she asked, looking around his shoulder and trying to gain his attention.

Again, without turning to face her, he calmly said, "I think your majesty is well aware of the reason for me being here. I've honored my part of the bargain, now it's time for you to honor yours."

"What you are asking isn't going to be easy."

"My dear, the things that need to be done the most rarely are. Too long has Ferelden been the backwards little country holding the rest of Thedas back. It's time for it join the rest of us in preparing for the future."

"The people will fight it. I am only one person, what can I do about that?"

"Funny. I thought you were the _queen_." Raythorne retorted with a slight sneer. "You were given back your throne. All I ask in return is that you fulfill your obligations. You needn't worry, your majesty. Everything has already been taken care of for you. My master will be arriving in three days. All you need do is say 'yes'."

"As you wish." Anora replied weakly.

"A very wise decision, I assure you. I shall inform my master."

Without saying another word, Raythorne turned and walked out, leaving Anora alone in the foyer. In her lust to regain the throne she had readily agreed to Raythorne's offer when it was first presented to her, now as the payment for his services was fast approaching doubt began to settle in.

"What have I done?" she asked aloud to no one as she clasped her hands together as worry and doubt started to gnaw at her gut.

* * *

After traveling for three days, one would think that having a small fiery woman and her demon-fish companion along would prove to be an unnerving experience. And for the most part, it was. Alistair's shins constantly throbbed and ached from repeatedly being kicked over something he said or did. He got the idea to wear his shin guards in order to protect his bruised shins, but she would just stomp on his foot instead, leaving his toes swollen. It was getting so that walking was becoming very difficult for him. And as if that wasn't bad enough, every time Alistair would try to sit down and have a meal in peace, he would notice Muirghein spying on him. Those beady little fish eyes kept watching his every move while great drops of drool leaked out of his mouth. Alistair couldn't tell which was worse, constantly being kicked by Edalwiess, or having her creepy fish-ghost begging from him like a dog. If he was forced to tolerate it much longer, he'd turn into a nervous wreck.

Almost mercifully, their journey came to and end as the trio found themselves on the edge of the Cousland estate, not far from The Warden's cottage. Together, they followed the small river that skirted the border of the estate through the woods and all the way up to the forest clearing, with the cottage laying just beyond.

"There it is." Alistair confirmed as he pointed out the quaint little home that set against the river bank under the large Visparis.

"Looks cozy enough" Edalwiess noted to Muirghein who gave several approving clicks and chirps. "I think so too." she replied to the fish with a nod.

"Are you sure they won't mind you just showing up uninvited like this?" she asked.

"Dwemer is my best friend in the entire world. Of course it won't be a problem." Alistair affirmed.

Just then, the sound of a woman humming a tune caught the trio's ears. Alistair brushed aside a low-hanging branch in order to better see the source of the sound. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he saw it. There, standing in the river, was a woman. She was completely nude and the water only rose to the tops of her thighs as she stood near the shallows of the bank. Evidently the woman was bathing in the cool clear waters of the river. Her back was facing to him and Alistair failed to recognize her.

"Who's that?" Edalweiss asked, peering around his side.

"I don't have any idea." he replied, transfixed by the sight before him.

The woman's long dark hair hung down to the middle of her back while she rung it out with both hands, causing the excess water to fall in large droplets back into the flowing river. The sun glistened off her naked skin as she sponged herself; up one arm and across her breasts before trailing the sponge back down her other arm, all the while humming a soft tune.

In order to get a better look, Alistair stepped forward, his eyes glued to the glorious sight. Suddenly, there came the cracking of a fallen branch under his foot, letting out a loud _snap_ that shot across the open meadow.

Instantly the ferocious barks of a mabari were heard. The beast, having heard the noise, came running from the back of the cottage barking out a warning to the suspicious party hiding just out of view. The woman was alerted and quickly covered her breasts with both arms as she swung around and called out, "Who goes there?"

Alistair became pale as a ghost when he saw the woman's face. "Maker's breath!" he exclaimed. "Morrigan!"

"'There is no point in hiding." Morrigan yelled out to toward the trees, "I know you are there."

With a sudden cold sweat starting to trickle down his forehead, Alistair reluctantly stepped from the forest's edge and into view. His face had turned several shades redder from the overwhelming embarrassment. "Uhm...hello, Morrigan." he muttered bashfully.

"Alistair!" the witch huffed while her eyes formed into a piercing scowl. "I might have known 'twas you. Do you often spy on unwary women as they bathe?"

"I didn't know it was you! Honestly, I didn't!" he replied trying the defend himself and waving his hands furiously in front of him. "I've never seen you with your hair down before,"

"Might I have been some other unfortunate woman, you would have found that acceptable then, would you?" Morrigan retorted in her usual biting tongue. "Did you derive pleasure from what you witnessed?"

"It's not like that at all." the flustered man said, "We were just coming to see Dwemer, that's all."

"_We_?" the witch repeated.

It was then the Edalweiss stepped out from behind Alistair and into view. "Hello." she said in an unsure greeting.

"Ah, yes. The 'stray'." Morrigan said, remembering the small woman from Denerim. "Your name is Edalweiss, is it not?"

"That's me." Edalweiss confirmed. "I'm surprised you remembered."

"Alistair makes so few friends. 'Tis not difficult to recall them."

"I'll say this for him, he sure knows how to make an entrance." the small woman replied with grin as she looked up at Alistair, whose cheeks were still a shade of deep red from blushing.

"Where's Muirghein?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Don't worry. He's still around." Edalweiss answered with a slight nod to a spot of open air that seemed the indicate the hidden creature's location.

"Don't just stand there, dolt." Morrigan hissed. "Hand me my robe."

"Oh, right." Alistair replied absentmindedly as he swiped the garment from the ground beside the bank and tossed it to the waiting witch without trying to look at her. His aim was far from perfect as the robe nearly sailed by Morrigan's head. She had to reach out with both hands in order to catch it, forcing her to expose her still wet and glistening breasts.

"Idiot!" Morrigan fumed. "If your desire was to see my breasts, why did you not just ask? There would have been less trouble for the both of us."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he spat out quickly turning his head so as not to see and doing his best not to make a bad situation worse, although he wasn't finding much success.

The sound of the rear cottage door opening caught all of their attention and they looked to see The Warden coming out the back of cottage. "What's going on out here?" he demanded.

His mood instantly changed upon seeing his friend. "Alistair? What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Dwemer." Alistair returned, grateful for the sudden interruption. "Maker, am I glad to see you." he said with a sigh of relief.

"'Tis plainly obvious what he is after." Morrigan said while she climbed out of the water and onto the shore, wrapping the robe around her soaking wet body. "He wishes for you to help him."

"Some things have changed since you left Denerim." Alistiar explained.

"The fools have had a change of heart and returned you to the throne, have they?" Morrigan quipped sarcastically.

"Well...no. Anora's queen now. But that's not the worst part." Alistair said, turning to his friend. "She's afraid I'll undermine her authority as queen. So she's banished me."

"Banished you? Alistair, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen to you. I tried to stop it."

"I know you did and I'm grateful." Alistair replied, hanging his head. "But I don't have anyplace else to go, Dwemer."

"You can stay here with us for a few days until you find your feet."

"Have you gone completely mad?" Morrigan asked in disbelief. "We've barely enough room for ourselves."

"Not now, Morrigan. You can be angry at me later. I'm not about to turn Alistair away and you know that."

The witch said nothing, only offering her husband a menacing glare that said, w_e shall discuss this later_.

"Thanks, Dwemer. I'll try not to be too much of a bother."

"'Tis already far too late for that." Morrigan muttered under her breath.

"Nonsense." The Warden said to his friend. "We're glad to have you here. You must both be starving. Come on inside and let's get you fed."

The very air seemed to chirp and squeak at The Warden's statement. From out of nowhere, a form took shape, hovering in mid-air, until Muirghein revealed himself. He whistled with delight as he turned circles and danced excitedly at the prospect of a tasty meal.

"Muiren!" Edalweiss scolded, which caused him to cease his dancing and start to sulk. "Don't be rude."

"I see the stray has a pet demon of her own." Morrigan noted, immediately recognizing the creature for what it was. "I suppose 'tis no surprise. The girl keeps her eyes closed at all times yet still manages to see. Such power must come from somewhere."

"He does more than gives me sight. He's the best friend I could ever ask for." the small woman clarified.

"That may be so, but one must always use caution when dealing with demons, no matter how unassuming they might seem."

"Don't worry. As long as he doesn't think you're trying to hurt me, he's as gentle as a lamb."

"In that case, I guess we better make sure not to piss him off. Now let's go eat." The Warden said as he walked back towards the cottage, gesturing for the others to follow him.

Edalweiss was more than a bit shocked at the seeming lack of fear by Morrigan and her warden over Muirghein's presence. "Your friends don't seem nearly as rattled by Muiren as most people are." she said to Alistair.

The Warden, having overheard the young woman, replied, "That's because we've seen worse. It takes more than a simple demon to get us riled up."

Muirghein, having grown tired of waiting for the meal which could possibly have cake or pie with it, urged Edalweiss along with a few gentle nudges to her back, chirping at her as he did so.

"Alright, alright. I'm going. You don't have to get all pushy." she shot back before following behind the rest of the group and heading inside.


	15. Chapter 15

**Part XV**

A large, grand vessel floated into the docks at Denerim, coming in from far out at sea. Its billowy white sails and ornate wooden railings outlined in silver and gold were testament to the importance of the owner of the ship. The flag atop the highest mast bore the seal of the Antivan royal family, confirming that this was indeed the flagship of the Antivan Royal Navy. It slowly drifted up to one of the large piers while men in uniform lowered the long gangway, which settled against the pier with a _thump_, and the men quickly ran down it, while others still aboard threw ropes out to them so that the vessel could be secured.

A delegation of Ferelden's finest knights stood at the docks, their metal armor glistening in the morning sun as they awaited the esteemed passenger in order to escort him quickly and safely to the royal palace. A circle of well-trained and well equipped bodyguards surrounded the important figure as he disembarked from the ship. These men were obviously of the Antivan Crows, the most deadly group of assassins in all Thedas. In the center, the man they guarded walked with regal distinction, his head held high and adorned in the finest garments. On his head, a golden crown sparkled in the sunlight. He was of course Marlori Segaya, crown prince of the Kingdom of Antiva, and nephew to the great Antivan prince, Doge.

"Prince Marlori," one of the knights said with a deep bow, "it is a great honor to have you with us. We have a carriage ready to take you to the palace where Queen Anora is expecting you."

The prince said nothing, only giving a slight nod to acknowledge the knight. The prince boarded the carriage, the queen's own personal conveyance, and the procession of knights and assassins quickly left the docks, making their way through the streets toward the royal palace, causing the residents of the city to stop and stare at the majestic sight that wound its way through Denerim like some overly decorated serpent.

Upon arriving at the palace, the carriage pulled up to the steps before the main entrance, where yet another group of knights lined either side of the staircase, standing rigid and at attention. Anora, accompanied by Arl Bryland, stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting to greet the prince. When the carriage had stopped, one of the servants, who was dressed in his best attire, quickly stepped up and opened the door, giving a deep and humble bow as the prince climbed out.

"Prince Marlori" Anora said with a cordial bow, "it's wonderful to finally meet you."

"And you as well, your majesty." the prince replied giving another slight nod of his head as he took the queens hand in his and pressed it against his lips.

"Won't you please join me inside. I've had a feast prepared in your honor."

"You are a most gracious host, your majesty. I look forward to it." Marlori said as he and his entourage climbed the steps into the palace. "We have much to talk about." he noted as the two royals walked up the steps and into the palace together, arm-in-arm.

Across the city at Arl Eamon's estate, the old statesman had received the news of the prince's visit. He was no fool. Eamon knew precisely what the queen was planning. And he was none to happy about it. If he didn't do something, Anora was going to hand Ferelden over to a foreign ruler on a silver platter. The question remained, however, just what exactly was he able to do to prevent Anora from delivering Ferelden into not only the hands of the Antivans, but Maker knows who else?

It seemed rather odd to Eamon that Anora, the daughter of one of the most fierce proponents for Ferelden's independence, would so readily make a deal with the Antivans. The obvious answer would be that all she wanted in return was to be made queen again, but there had to be more to it than that. Anora was as shrewd a politician as there was, and while she might have a strong lust for power, Eamon was convinced she was getting more out of the deal than just the throne. He simply couldn't believe that Anora would put the country into such a position without any benefits to Ferelden. Whatever those benefits were, however, the queen was remaining tight lipped about any of it. The old arl reckoned that was because if word of her plans had leaked out before her coronation, the nobles wouldn't have been nearly as eager to place her back on the throne as they were.

While Alistair had been king, relations with Anitva hadn't soured, but they hadn't exactly prospered either. The underlying cause was mostly due to the fact that Alistair was usually far too busy dealing with internal affairs, such as the rebuilding efforts after the Blight and the takeover attempt by the Order of Bohlen. Alistair simply didn't have the time or the resources to devote to international matters. Eamon was certain that if Alistair had the opportunity, he would have done well in strengthening Ferelden's ties with its neighbors in Thedas.

Alas, all that was merely speculation, and at this juncture the prospect of getting Alistair back on the throne was looking more bleak than ever. Whatever Alistair's eventual fate was, however, that would have to wait until later. Arl Eamon's most pressing task was to limit the fallout from whatever Anora was cooking up.

To that end, Eamon arranged to have a meeting with Bann Teagan and Teyrn Fergus before both of them left the city and returned to their respective estates. Among the things the three of them would discuss was how Bryland and Anora were able to broker the aid of the Antivans and whoever else might have helped them. Did the pair concoct the scheme on their own, or were they approached by an outside force seeking to gain a foothold in Ferelden? The three of them agreed that the latter was most likely, considering that Bryland and Anora couldn't have had the resources on their own to pull off such a stunning coup.

During the meeting, Eamon, Fergus, and Teagan all tried to put the pieces of the puzzle in place and retrace the events that led up to the prince's arrival. They reasoned that whoever planned to overthrow Alistair had devised to do so some time ago and had been waiting for the perfect chance to act. The letter that Alistair found in West Hill gave them that chance, and they used it to full effect. Eamon openly cursed himself for not having better prepared Alistair against the dangers of being so careless with his actions.

"Suppose Anora marrying Prince Marlori isn't such a bad thing. I mean, these sorts of things are hardly unusual. My own wife, Maker rest her soul, was Antivan." Fergus wondered aloud to the others. "What if an alliance with Antiva is actually a good thing?"

"On the surface, it might seem so." Eamon replied as he thoughtfully stroked his salt-and-pepper beard. "But let us not forget that the prince is merely a figurehead. Anitva is ruled by the princes of commerce more than by anyone else. And they wouldn't have authorized such a ploy without the prospect of great financial gain. No, my friend. There is something much deeper going on here than any of us realize."

"What could be so valuable to the Anitvans, or to anyone else for that matter?" Teagan asked.

"I don't have the slightest clue" Eamon answered.

"I guess I'll have to talk to my brother and see if I can convince him to take a more active role in all this." Fergus said.

Eamon shook his head a bit before saying, "The Warden is quite possibly the most formidable man I have ever known. Still, his particular skills might not be of great use to us in a time like this. What we need now is a decisive plan of action and diplomacy if we are to get to the bottom of this. As talented as The Warden is with a blade, I doubt he will do us much good under the circumstances."

"That may be so. But if there's anyone who can dig underneath a rock and find something, it's him." Fergus replied. "The secret arrangements that were made between Anora and her Antivan allies had to go through some shady hands. There's no one better at uncovering who they are than Dwemer. All he needs is a little motivation, that's all."

"You may have a point. However, it would be best to keep things subdued. We don't need him to eliminate the entire Antivan royal family and draw the ire of the Crows. We have a big enough mess to deal with as it is."

"You forget. My brother has friends within the Crows. I'm sure any information they could provide would be very helpful. After all, nothing happens in Anitva without the Crows knowledge."

"And if we find the information we're looking for, then what?" Teagan questioned the others causing all of them to pause for a moment at the idea.

"I don't know yet." Eamon replied. "I suppose that depends on what it is we find."

* * *

"Everything in this bloody house is _backward_!" Alistair fumed as he searched through the cupboard in the kitchen while Muirghein peeked expectantly over his shoulder, hoping to get a share of the whatever meal Alistair was preparing for himself.

"What are you complaining about now?" Edalwiess asked, poking her head into the kitchen to see what the commotion was all about.

"All I want is to find a mug so I can have something to drink, but I can't find so much as a bowl to put anything in." Alistair huffed, giving up his search with a good slam of the cupboard door. "Damn lefties!"

"Did you ever think to ask Morrigan or Dwemer where they keep things? We have been here almost a week, after all."

"That's just it. I'm not about to let Morrigan harass me about trying to find a simple cup. And believe me, she would too. Making my life miserable is what she lives for. I swear she hides things on purpose just to torture me."

"Oh, that's not true." Eda disagreed making a slightly frumpy face.

"Have you met her? You've seen how she treats me."

"Alright. Maybe she does do it on purpose. But only because she really likes you."

"Likes me? Are we even talking about the same person?" Alistair asked almost completely dumbfounded that the small woman would suggest something so outlandish.

"Maybe you have a point." Edalweiss relented. "But I don't think she hates you nearly as much as you make it out to be."

"And what makes you say that?"

"Well, she hasn't slit your throat in your sleep, has she?"

Alistair grimaced uncontrollably and rubbed his neck at the unsettling prospect. "I've been told that before. Why people use _that_ as a means of determining how Morrigan feels about me, I'll never know." he said.

Just down the small dirt path, The witch and her warden were on their way back to the cottage after spending the day in Highever shopping for supplies. Morrigan, with her son in front of her, rode atop The Warden's horse while he walked ahead, leading the beast by the reigns. Leo merrily trampled through the brush just ahead of the others, sniffing here and there, inspecting each scent his sensitive nose came across. And while Morrigan said nothing, her thoughts were squarely focused on the guests at her home and how having them would affect she, her warden, and their children's futures.

It had been nearly a week since Alistair and the small woman arrived unannounced. Even though Alistair played the part of an innocent victim of circumstance, secretly the witch was starting to believe that it was all part of Alistair's master plan. He knew that The Warden would never turn him away while his friend was is need, no matter how much she objected. Either Alistair was going to drag The Warden into the mess he called his life, or that mess would eventually locate them. Morrigan was sure of it. She figured her husband probably was aware of it as well, yet he failed to do anything about it. Instead, he pretended to focus on their time together and the child which was growing inside her. He was acting exactly as she always wanted him to, and it bothered her greatly.

Normally, the witch was extremely hesitant to discuss anything having to do with emotions or feelings, but that was because the focus was normally put on her in those uncomfortable situations. Now that the tables had been turned, she greatly wanted him to open up to her and tell her what he was feeling. She feared, however, that her own reluctance to openly talk about such matters had poisoned him to some degree on the subject. For once, she regretted not being as forthcoming as she could have been, choosing instead to let him decipher on his own what her thoughts were based on the myriad clues and hints she dropped, if she chose to leave any at all. She was aware that her actions frustrated him to no end yet is was easier for her that way and it was something he accepted. Now that she saw first-hand what he went through with that, it caused her heart to sink a little as his devotion to her became even more apparent.

Getting him to open up was far easier said than done, though. If there was a problem that needed to be confronted head-on, Morrigan had no misgivings about doing or saying what was needed. She could easily be the voice of reason among the foolish and ignorant. The witch cared little about what most people thought of her. She said what was she felt was necessary whether they liked it or not.

Her warden was a far different scenario, however. How he felt actually affected her very much. And although she tried to hide that fact from him, she knew he was certainly aware of it. Much to her chagrin, the witch was forced to admit that he probably wouldn't be right until he was given the chance to correct what he felt were the mistakes he made. Until then, he would keep pretending to be happy living out their days together, no matter how much she knew otherwise.

She knew he was acting the way he was because of her. He probably thought that she would tell him to get a hold on himself, that wallowing in one's own self-pity was nothing more than a weakness. He was doing what he thought was best and would make her happy. But she knew he wasn't weak. Quite the contrary. She had seen first hand just how strong he could be. He was everything she could hope to want in a man and more. As much as she was loathe to do so, she would have to talk to her warden. Her lack of desire to openly talk to him about his troubles wasn't based in her need of avoiding the topic, as was normally the case, but rather it was her lack of skill that troubled her. She feared she would completely foul everything up and cause him to repress still further into his shell. But she was even more terrified that he was slowly slipping away from her. She had to do something to bring him back, even if that meant going to extremes.

But that would have to wait until later, when they had a private moment to themselves, which was becoming increasingly less frequent. For now, though, they had arrived back at the cottage and it was time to stow the supplies they purchased and prepare Seth to be laid down for the night, not that the child was going to make it easy for them. As soon as The Warden placed his son on the ground, Seth's tiny feet began to hastily run in the direction of the mabari, looking to play one last game before the day ended.

"Seth, don't wander off." The Warden called out as the small child giggled and ran in circles with Leo bounding around him. "We need to get inside so you can get washed up. It's almost your bedtime."

Seth gave no acknowledgment that he heard his father's words, continuing instead to hop around while the beast barked playfully, no doubt informing the guests inside of their return.

The Warden raised his arms up to aid his witch down from the horse. Usually she gave him a stern look that said _I require no assistance_ whenever he did so, but this time she only grinned slightly and flipped her leg over the saddle before easing herself into his arms.

He cocked his head to the side and eyed her suspiciously, as if to ask, _what are you up to_? Her reply was to place her hand against his chest, giving a few light rubs as she did, and stretch herself upwards so that she could place a soft kiss against his cheek.

"We shall talk later, my love." she said softly into his ear.

The front door of the cottage swung wide and Muirghein came racing out, his long fishy body shimmering with a silver gleam in the waning sunlight. He darted to each of them in turn, swirling around their bodies as he made gleeful chirps and whistles. He poked his blunt snout into the saddle bags resting near the horse's posterior, inspecting each for any prized treats or other goodies that might have been brought back.

The Warden let out a chuckle at the sight, saying, "I swear, the fish is worse than the dog. He'd have you convinced we've been gone for days."

Giving Muirghein a gentle nudge out of the way, The Warden grabbed the saddle bags that were laden with goods from town and hoisted one over each shoulder. He shook his head and grinned at the creature who stared back at him expectantly, just knowing there was a tasty prize hidden somewhere deep within the many soft folds of leather.

With a few gentle pats on the top of his head, The Warden broke the bad news to Muirghein. "There's nothing in there for you this time, I'm afraid." he said, causing the fish to let out a few grumbling clicks and chirps of disappointment.

"Fishy!" Seth squealed as he grabbed Muirghein's tail and started to tug him away, with Leo bouncing and hopping in circles around the boy the entire time. "Come on Mewgeen!" Seth cried out, urging the fish to play with him.

"Stay close by." The Warden reminded his young son. "It's almost dark."

"He'll be fine with Muiren and me out here with him." Edalweiss greeted in her usual bubbly tone after having come out of the cottage without The Warden noticing.

"Oh, hello Eda. I didn't see you there." He said.

"I get that quite a bit." she replied with an understanding nod. "I don't mind keeping an eye on Seth while you put your things away. It's the least I can do after you've been nice enough to let Alistair and me stay here."

"Nonsense. You don't owe us anything. We're glad for the company."

The witch cleared her throat loudly, trying to get her warden's attention. "Let us not be so rash. If her desire is to show us gratitude, who are we to deny her?"

"Well, Seth does seem to enjoy Muiren's company. I think he'll be alright for a few minutes."

Morrigan grabbed The Warden by his hand and led him inside, with the saddle bags slung over his shoulders. Together, they entered the darkened cottage and he set the bags down on the wooden table in the kitchen.

"It's not like you to let Seth out of your sight even for a minute." He noted. "What's going on?"

"Can I not simply wish to spend a few moments in peace with my husband? Where is the harm in that?" the witch replied as she gently caressed his arm. "Considering we've not been afforded any time to ourselves recently, I would think 'tis something we both desired."

"You're after something. What is it?" he asked.

"No, Dwemer." she sighed, "I am not after anything, except to show you how much you mean to me."

He said nothing in return, only looking at her as if he didn't recognize the woman standing before him. It could be another part of the pregnancy, he thought. Maybe the changes in his witch were beginning to kick in and show themselves more.

"In truth," Morrigan started, "I have been concerned about you for some time now. You grow more distant with each day. 'Tis important that you realize I am here should you need me." she said as her hands moved up to his cheek. Her soft, slender fingers lightly touching him.

"Morrigan...I'm fine." he said, taking her hand in his and giving it a good squeeze.

"You are a terrible liar." she replied softly.

"Hey you two." Alistair called out as he entered the small kitchen, totally destroying the mood. "I thought I heard you in here. It's about time you got back, too."

_Blast you, Alistair_! Morrigan thought to herself. She felt she was making progress and he was close to confiding in her all the things that had been troubling him.

"I'm dying of thirst. Where do you keep the mugs?" the former king asked.

"In the cupboard, as they should be." Morrigan huffed. "Are you not able to find anything on your own?"

"I looked in the cupboard. I couldn't find them."

"_Here_." the witch spat out in an annoyed voice as she opened the left door on the cupboard and grabbed a mug from the bottom shelf on the far left side, setting it down on the table forcefully. "You have your mug, now find your drink. Or is that also something you are unable to do yourself?"

"Alright, alright. I was just leaving." Alistair replied defensively. "I can take a hint. I know when I'm not wanted." he said as he scooped up the mug from the table and walked out of the kitchen, heading for the water barrel that sat in the far corner.

After they were alone once more, Morrigan threw her arms around her warden's neck and slid closer to him. "Now.. where were we?" she asked in a seductive purr as she snuggled in closer.

"Right about here." The Warden replied, leaning closer to kiss his beautiful golden-eyed maiden.

But before he could press his lips to hers, the sound of a shrill scream rang out, sending an icy shill through both Morrigan and The Warden. "Seth!" Morrigan shrieked as she bolted out the front door with her warden right behind her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Part XVI**

Prince Marlori looked across the long dining table with a grin. "Then we are agreed." he said with a certain heir of satisfaction in his voice. "Our union will unite our two peoples in ways never before dreamed possible."

Sitting across from him, Anora sat with her usual somber and unemotional expression, not giving away any clue as to her true feelings. "It is agreed. I will marry you before the coming of the first frosts. In return, you get the trade routes through Denerim and the Waking Sea that Antiva and Orlais wanted so badly."

"The Orlisian Empress will pleased the hear that. They've been trying to acquire free passage through the Waking Sea for centuries. It'll open a whole new world of trade and commerce to them. At long last they'll have easy access to Eastern Thedas" the prince said, allowing his mind to wander, imagining the possibility of vast riches flowing into his coffers.

"The taxes and tariffs alone should make the bargain worthwhile."

"Those taxes would rightfully belong to Ferelden, of course." Anora interjected.

"Of course. However, since the Princes of Commerce will be handling all the details for the day-to-day operations of both our great countries, a sizable portion of those proceeds would go to them." Marlori added.

Anora felt like a large stone had set itself inside her gut. When Bryland first told her about the deal with the Antivans and Orlisians, Anora jumped at the chance to regain the throne and be freed from her enforced seclusion. But now, doubt was beginning to creep in. She had failed to see just how big a chunk of Ferelden she was trading off in return for her crown.

On the surface it seemed innocent enough: Antiva and Orlais would get favorable trade agreements with Ferelden if Raythorne arranged for Anora to be returned to the throne. The devil was in the details, however, as what started out as a simple arrangement quickly turned into a complicated mess.

One of the stipulations set in place at the end of the Orlisian occupation was the loss of all major trade routes across the Waking Sea. That meant most of Orlais' cargo had to be ferried across land in order to reach the eastern countries in Thedas. While it kept the goods flowing, it was cumbersome and ineffective at best. The large caravans were often subjected to raids when venturing across the Free Marches or Nevarra. As a result, it became necessary to hire larger and larger bands of mercenaries to protect those shipments, which became quite expensive and raised the cost of the goods upon arrival at their destination. With such a heavy burden to pay, it was difficult for Orlisian products to compete on the open market.

Antiva was having similar problems in trying to send goods to the west. The two largest economies in Thedas had little to no interaction at all. Tiny Ferelden always stood in the way. With Denerim standing constant vigil over the sea, it was nearly impossible for any other nation to gain a foothold on the region. The city's location was the key to Ferelden's prosperity.

Several times the mighty Orlisian empire sought to remedy the situation by invading Ferelden, but to no avail. The dirty people always managed to find a way to cast the invaders out. So what couldn't be accomplished by brute force, was finally handled with diplomacy and more than a little subversion.

Now that Anora was queen once more, she was obligated to keep her end of the bargain. Unfortunately, she was unaware of the entirety of those obligations until it was too late. There were far more details to the arrangement than she was originally made aware of.

Antiva and Orlais had finally gotten what they were both after, and they meant to keep it that way. To that end, Anora's role was reduced to little more than a figurehead. The real seat of power rested with the Princes of Commerce in Antiva and the Imperial Court of Orlias. They would be the ones doing to primary decision making from now on. Ferelden would keep its autonomy, but just barely; enough to keep the nobles from feeling threatened.

Instead of a large invading force, this time Orlais was only setting up several outposts along the shores of the Waking Sea to ensure the trade routes stayed open to them. While Denerim would still be the capital, Orlias intended to make Highever their center in Ferelden. The country would essentially be split in two, with Antiva controlling the eastern half and Orlais the west.

Raythorne, Marlori and the Antivans had managed to secure Denerim, now it was time for the Orlisians to obtain Highever. That's why it was imperative for Bryland to expand his lands through the central bannorn and up to the coast. That would make it much easier for the Orlisians to assume control, with Bryland as their lackey. Otherwise there could be stiff resistance. The Couslands were among the most respected houses in the land, and if they had to be forcibly removed from power, there could be civil war; something all parties were trying to avoid at all costs. War is expensive, after all.

* * *

Morrigan rushed outside of the small cottage, fearing the worst. She had been a terrible fool. Her son had already been taken from her once before and leaving Seth in Edalweiss' care was a stupid and unnecessary risk. Even though her husband was in need of her aid, whether he wished it or not, that was no excuse for Morrigan abandoning her son. She cursed herself as she hurried to the source of the boy's cries, with Dwemer following close behind.

The pair saw their son standing frozen stiff with fear and looking off toward a clump of bushes near the edge of the garden. Edalweiss stood nearby with a look of confused shock on her face while Muirghein hovered in the air closely behind her, as if acting as her protector. Relief filled the witch when she realized Seth was unhurt. But something had definitely frightened the child greatly. Leo, meanwhile, was busy intently sniffing the area around the bushes, letting out a low growl as he did. He gave a few warning barks to inform whoever, or whatever might be hiding within that he was on to them.

"What is all the commotion about?" Morrigan demanded. Seth, seeing his mother, ran toward her and wrapped his pudgy arms around her legs, trying to hide within her skirt.

"I...I don't know." Edalweiss replied, still a bit confused. "Seth and Leo were playing by the bushes when he just started to scream. I think something over there spooked him."

"Leo seems to think there's something in there too." The Warden added, gesturing toward his oldest friend.

"Whoever 'tis hiding in the bushes has breathed their last." Morrigan fumed, her hand starting to glow as she summoned her powers.

"Wait..." The Warden said, grasping his witch's arm. "Let's not jump to conclusions here. For all we know it could have only been a rabbit or some other animal."

"Do you not see your mabari?" the witch retorted, more than a little incensed. "He surely would not have acted so if 'twas simply an animal."

"And what would setting fire to the whole countryside accomplish?" he asked, trying to be the reasonable one for once. "I'll check it out. You stay here with Seth."

"Impossible man." Morrigan huffed as she reached down to take her child's trembling hand.

The Warden stepped slowly and cautiously towards the clump of brush that grew next to the garden. In the waning sunlight, his eyes tried to focus deep within the tangled branches for any signs of movement or some out of place shape hidden in the shade.

He called Leo to him, giving the mabari a few good pats on the head, saying, "Good boy, Leo. Go over to Morrigan. I'll handle this."

Leo let out a soft whimper as if to ask his master "are you sure?"

With a slight grin, The Warden repeated himself. "I've got this. You go to Morrigan."

Slumping his thick, beefy shoulders and lowering his head, the beast did as he was told and slinked off towards the witch and her son. With Leo guarding his witch and Seth, The Warden resumed his stalking of the bush, closing in slowly with deliberate steps.

Out of the corner of his eye, The Warden caught two dark silhouettes streaking out of the bush, rustling the leaves and shaking the branches as they did. Without hesitation, he darted after them, chasing the shadows across the small clearing. In the increasing darkness, it was difficult to make out who they were, except that, whoever it may be was definitely not an animal.

Just before the figures could reach the safety of the thick forest and disappear, The Warden caught up with the one lagging slightly behind and tackled him to the ground, smothering the robed invader with his large frame to prevent their wiggling body from being able to break free.

"Who are you and what are you doing on my land?" The Warden demanded loudly. "Tell me now, or I swear I'll snap your neck like a twig!"

The figure beneath him was that of a young man, who could barely make any sounds at all, let alone answer, as his face and the rest of his body was being forcefully pressed against the dirt. He struggled to break free from The Warden's tight grasp in vain. At last, he was able to free his mouth enough to cry out.

"Wait! Wait!" the young man shouted as his limbs flailed underneath The Warden. "Please, don't kill me!"

"So you can speak." The Warden quipped. "If you want to be able to continue breathing, then I suggest you tell me what it is you are doing here."

"Do not take your anger out on the boy, Warden. I will tell you what you wish to know." another voice said with a distinct Antivan accent.

The Warden looked up to see the other figure returning from the tree line and heading toward where he was. He was dressed in the same dark-gray robe as the youth he had pinned down was wearing. Beneath, the man wore ornate, studded leather armor and carried several weapons fastened about his belt. Among them a jewel encrusted dagger and an extremely sharp-looking short sword. There was no doubting this man's affiliation. He was a member of the Antivan Crows.

"You're a Crow! What do the Crows want with me?" The Warden asked.

"If you would be so kind as to let my apprentice up, I'll tell you." the man replied.

The Warden nodded agreement and lifted himself off the young man who was at last able to climb to his feet. The young man brushed the dust from his clothes after he stood, a very sour look on his face.

"You didn't have to try to smother me, you know." he huffed, objecting to The Warden's treatment of him.

"Your lucky all I did was smother you." The Warden replied, staring down the young lad. "If I don't start getting some answers soon, you can bet I'll do more than that."

"There's no need to make threats, Warden. As I already said, I'll tell you what you want to know." the older man said. "Pardon me. Where are my manners? My name is Argust, and as you have already guessed, I'm a member of that distinguished order: The Antivan Crows."

"What is it that you want with me?" The Warden inquired, still not trusting the two men and keeping both of his eyes on them. "I was told I'd never again have to worry about the Crows trying to come after me for any reason."

"Ah, yes. You received 'the symbol' from Zevran, didn't you? Fear not, Warden. The Crows honor their vows."

"Then why were you and your apprentice spying on me?"

"Spying on _you_?" Argust asked as if he was surprised by The Warden's question. "Oh, no, Warden. My young ward and I were not spying on you, at all. We have a completely different target."

"A different target? Alistair!" The Warden gasped when he realized who Argust was talking about.

"You catch on quick, Warden. Yes, your friend, the former king, was to be our target." Argust explained. "We were told to make it look like an accident so as not to rouse suspicion."

"Who would want Alistair dead? Anora, or someone else?"

"That I cannot tell you."

"Can't or won't?"

"Your choice. Either is as good a reason for me." Argust replied with a smug grin.

"I guess it doesn't really matter. You've been caught, so it's not as if you'll get the chance to kill Alistair now. I can find out who hired you later. And trust me, I _will_ find out."

"Don't be so sure of yourself, Warden. A dose of humility would do you good." Argust reported before casting a stern glance at his apprentice. "For three days we've been watching and waiting for our chance to strike. Had my young apprentice not made such a clumsy error and startled your son, you would never have known about us. I can assure you there will be others who will try."

"Do all Crows break their vows so easily? It was my understanding that I wasn't in any danger from your order."

"There have been no vows broken. While it is true that you are safe from any attack, the former king, however, was given no such promise. As far as the Crows are concerned, he's fair game."

"Well, then, maybe I should kill both of you and be done with it." The Warden said with a menacing glare.

"You could, I'm sure. But then who would there be to tell any others that Alistair is under your protection? Your name is honored even among the assassins. Had I, myself, known you were involved, I wouldn't have taken the job when it was offered to me. That's not to say there aren't those less scrupulous than myself who wouldn't try, regardless. But the pool of available names would diminish considerably if my brothers knew the former king was a guest of yours."

"Fine, you can go. Just make sure to tell any one else stupid enough to try to kill Alistair that they'll have to go through me first." The Warden warned.

"That goes without saying." Argust replied casually.

The assassin gave a cordial bow before he and his apprentice ducked into the trees and vanished without a trace. The Warden stood there for a few moments to verify that Argust had actually left before he turned around and head back to the cottage, where the witch was no doubt anxiously waiting for his return. She would be relieved to know that Seth was never in any real danger. Although, Morrigan was sure to be less than pleased with the prospect of more assassins coming to their home. She would undoubtedly insist that Alistair leave at once.

"You've returned at last." Morrigan said when he reached the cottage. "I take it you were able to successfully find the source of the disturbance?"

"Unfortunately, I was. It's the Crows." he answered.

"The crows?" Edalweiss repeated, her nose crinkled up with confusion. "How many were there? It hard to believe Seth was scared by a few small birds."

"Not that type of crow, Eda." The Warden corrected.

"He is no doubt referring to the band of assassins. Their order is among the most feared in all Thedas."

"Oh, _those _crows." Edalweiss said in pseudo revelation while she turned to look at Muirghein as shook her head slightly and shrugged, indicating that she still had no clue.

"They were after Alistair. I managed to chase them off, but we can bet there will be more coming after him."

"'Tis hardly a surprise. After all, one would expect the first thing our fair new queen would do is eliminate the competition." Morrigan noted.

"That's just it. I don't think Anora was behind it." The Warden said. "Don't get me wrong. I'm sure the two are connected somehow. But why would Anora go through the trouble of banishing Alistair only to have him eliminated? Wouldn't it have been easier to attack him while he was still in Denerim?"

"Perhaps." Morrigan replied. "However, 'tis more likely that she simply wanted him as far removed from her as possible. It would be easier to dispatch him and yet still claim innocence, were Alistair to meet his end so distant from Denerim."

"Maybe so. But that seems like a great deal of effort to go through when she could have accomplished the same thing while he was still in Denerim. Why bother bringing the Crows into all this? Something doesn't quite add up here." The Warden reasoned. "My guess is that whoever was behind Anora's play for the throne is looking to make sure she stays there permanently."

It was then that Morrigan had one of those sudden realizations. The kind of realization where one clearly sees how things really are. The witch had only been lying to herself, thinking that she could keep the man she loved hidden away from the rest of the world. Despite her best efforts, Morrigan was unable to keep the world from bringing its troubles to their doorstep. She was living a fantasy. A lie. She thought that if she just ignored the calamity around them long enough, it would give up and go away. When that didn't work, she tried hiding her family in their remote cottage, sure that the world would never find them. But as it turned out, that plan had failed as well. As always, no matter what she did or what promises The Warden made to her, the troubles of Ferelden focused squarely on him.

When Alistair fled Denerim, he unwittingly put into motion a chain of events that was designed to do one thing and one thing only: Draw her warden back into the conflict. It was as if the witch was fighting against the will of Ferelden itself. And powerful though she was, even Morrigan was no match for a country that desired a savior. And that's precisely what The Warden was. It was his fate and his destiny. She had been fighting a losing battle all along. Morrigan could resist all she wanted to, but the end result was never in doubt.

Before long, he would be leading the charge against another powerful foe. Only this time, he would have to do it without her by his side. The precious cargo she carried within her womb prevented her from accompanying. She would merely be a useless distraction, unable to render any aid to him at all.

At last, Morrigan understood perfectly. Her husband was the people's protector whether she wished it to be or not. It would always be so. The more she raged against it, the more she was only making things worse for him. That didn't mean she had to like it, though. She just had to accept that this was the way things were meant to be. In the end, she would just have to trust that the universe would sort it self out somehow and that she and her warden would be able to make some semblance of a life together in between disasters.

Still, even though Morrigan knew their peaceful time together was nearly at an end, that didn't mean she was going to give the fates what they desired so quickly. The witch intended to drag it out for as long as she possibly could before she was forced to let him go. She felt it was the least she deserved.

"What cruel games the gods play." she thought to herself, knowing that she couldn't bear to be away from her warden, but at the same time, was never permitted any time with him, either.

She stared at The Warden, her beautiful golden eyes full of that rare softness she saved only for him. Her hand reached out to caress his arm, softly stroking it a few times. In return, he grinned at her a bit, unsure as to her reasons for the sudden dose of affection.

"Are you alright?" The Warden asked her.

She responded with a slight grin of her own that seemed to show that his concern was unwarranted. "'Tis time to go inside, my love." was all she said, and she turned away, leading Seth by the hand as both of them went into the cottage, passing by Alistair as he was on his way out.

"Alistair..." Morrigan greeted as she casually strolled by him with a small, sort of half smile on her face.

"...Morrigan." he returned somewhat warily, eying the witch with a bit of cautiousness, finally resuming his steps when the witch was completely inside.

"What's with her?" Alistair asked as he approached the Warden.

"I'm not sure." his friend answered. "She's been acting odd all day. I think it might have something to do with her being pregnant."

"That's not it at all." Edalweiss chimed in.

The Warden's head swung around sharply, bringing his gaze onto the small woman. "Really? And how do you know that?"

"A woman can tell these things. Morrigan has something on her mind."

"Like what?" The Warden inquired, curious to know Edalweiss' take on the situation.

"I'm not sure. But whatever it is, it must be pretty important. You might want to go talk to her."

"I guess I probably should." The Warden agreed and excused himself to go inside, leaving Leo and Muirghein to keep Alistair and Edalweiss company.

It took a few moments for The Warden's eyes to adjust to the dim light cast by the fire, but once they had, he saw his witch sitting in the plush chair that rested in front of the fireplace. She had already placed Seth down for the night, after having calmed the child enough for him to finally sleep, and she sat alone in the den. She said nothing as he entered. Instead her gaze was fixed on the random flames that danced around the burning wood, her mind apparently lost somewhere in thought.

His first thought was to leave her be. His witch was obviously dealing with some internal struggle and maybe it was best if he didn't disturb her. Whatever problem she was having, if her desire was to talk about it, she would have done so, or at least made an indication to him that she intended to. He knew his wife well enough to know how badly things went if the witch was in no mood for emotional displays. But before he could turn around and leave her in peace, she spoke.

"I've been a fool." she said softly, finally turning her eyes to his. "Twas my desire to encourage you to let go of your feelings of guilt."

"What are you talking about?"

Morrigan let out a long sigh. "I was positive that had I simply tried hard enough, I could make you forget the world outside and accept being here with me. However, after being shown the true nature of things, I am forced to admit 'tis I who must accept that your place is not with me and our family. Your destiny lies elsewhere. 'Tis precisely as the old mage said..."

"Not be here with you? Morrigan, that's nonsense. There isn't anywhere else I'd rather be." he proclaimed as convincingly as he could.

"You are a terrible liar." she retorted. "I am fully aware that guilt continually gnaws at your gut like some ravenous beast. Your desire is to finish what you started. Until you are able, I shall not have all of you."

"I don't understand. Are you telling me you want me to leave?"

"Leave? No. Quite the opposite, actually. I've learned, at last, that in order for us to truly be together in peace, I must accept your fate as much as you. 'Tis your destiny to be this land's savior. Wynne was aware of this and tried to tell me, but I was too stubborn to understand. If we continue to rage against it, 'twill only make things more difficult. I see that now."

"Are you saying I should try to find a way to put Alistair back on the throne?" The Warden asked. "I don't understand where any of this is coming from. You told me to put it out of my head and be done with it."

"I am saying that you must do what you can, my love, else neither of us will ever know peace. Your success or failure is not the issue. There is a reason for your constant need to protect those whom you feel are vulnerable. 'Tis because the gods have decreed it be so."

"But Bryland won, remember? The letter turned out to be real, after all. You said so yourself."

"I said that it had not been altered by magic. 'Twas not a verification of the document's authenticity." Morrigan corrected.

"I don't even know where to begin. I don't even have the slightest thing to go on. That, more than anything, was what's so frustrating. There has to be more proof than just the letter."

"Trust in your fate, my love. It shall guide the way."


	17. Chapter 17

**Part XVII**

"It great to be back home." Fergus thought to himself as he and his band of men rode through the gates of majestic Castle Cousland as the morning sun cast its rays against the towers and spires, creating a rather majestic-looking scene.

After several stress-filled weeks, he'd grown weary of Denerim and wished only to recline in his own chair, in his own study. Even these dreary stone walls were of much greater comfort than being a guest at Arl Eamon's estate. Castle Cousland may have been an ancient structure, full of mold, decay, and the odd rat here and there, but at least it was his. And with the business of the landsmeet being settled for now, as much as could be expected given the situation, it was time for a bit of relaxation before Fergus returned to his duties as Teyrn. He allowed a small smile to creep across his face as his steed slowly walked up to the stately caste courtyard.

Through some odd twist, it was Anora, and not Alistair who now sat on Ferelden's throne. Although, that could hardly be considered shocking. Political upheaval was the standard in Ferelden since before Andraste, herself, walked the streets of Denerim. One lord or another was always vying for a bigger slice of the proverbial pie. The political backstabbing would often get to outrageous proportions, with nobles sometimes going to war with one another over the slightest provocation.

When the dust settled and the bloodshed ceased, the political landscape had rarely changed all that dramatically. One lord might be slightly better off, while the other was only a bit weaker. It was through these constant squabbles that the political hierarchy was altered over the course of several generations: One family biting off a chunk of land from another, only to lose it back from whom they took it, or to someone else entirely different.

The Cousland family was certainly no exception to the rule. The land Sarim Cousland inherited was little more than a lowly bannorn; a vassal to the mighty city of Amaranthine Teynir. It took centuries of bargaining, conflict, and outright rebellion for the Highever Teynir to grow to its vast size, covering all of northwestern Ferelden.

Even now, the scheming Arl Bryland, had designs on claiming much of that land for himself. Thankfully, the arl's appetite for power went largely unfulfilled at the landsmeet; due to the sudden upheaval of the throne. However, Fergus knew Bryland to be a patient man, and the arl wouldn't be abandoning his plans any time soon. He would bide his time until a way presented itself from him to steal away the Northern Passage out from underneath the teyrn.

It hadn't even been a year since the town of Highever was razed to the ground by the Order of Bohlen and the rebuilding effort was still very much ongoing. New shops and homes were being finished on a weekly basis, and the population was starting to finally make its way back, but there was still much left to do. It would take years before all the buildings were replaced and Highever completely recovered. Though the mental and emotional scars of that battle would last a lifetime or more.

Bryland thought he had picked his time to strike well, with the Teynir in a perceived state of weakness. But the teyrn intended to show just how much life remained in the Teynir. Bryland had spent his time consolidating his power and moving to make as many allies as he could, but Fergus had allies as well.

The shift in royal power would lead to a diminished role in state affairs, as Anora looked more toward Bryland for guidance and advice. Unlike Alistair, who relied heavily on Fergus and Arl Eamon. Still, Highever was the strongest and most influential region, and Fergus was determined to make sure it stayed that way. No matter what plans Bryland and the new queen held for Highever, Fergus aimed to ensure his teynir would remain as strong and stable as ever. He would fight for what was his until his very last breath, if that's what it took.

"Your Grace, it's so good to finally have you home." A young female servant said as she gave a cordial bow.

"You must be new to the castle." Fergus replied. "What's your name?"

"Jazel." the woman replied. "Why? Is there something the matter, Your Grace?"

"Yes. He doesn't like being referred to as 'Your Grace'." one of the older servants informed as he passed by the woman.

"I always thought it sounded so...feminine." Fergus added.

"A thousand apologies Your Gr...I mean, my lord." Jazel quickly spat out, adding an even deeper bow.

"No harm done." Fergus replied. "Now that we have that out of the way, was there something you needed, Jazel?"

The young woman was still obviously quite nervous and clearly didn't want to embarrass herself further. "Arl Eamon arrived a short while ago. He's waiting to meet with you in your study." she said, her voice still trembling a bit.

"Before me? I wasn't even aware he'd left Denerim yet." Fergus let out a long sigh. "I suppose there's no rest for the weary, after all." he grumbled.

"My lord? I don't follow you."

"It's nothing. Tell Arl Eamon I'll be with him shortly. I need to get out of these dusty clothes and clean up a bit first."

"Very good, my lord." Jazel replied, bowing, before turning and heading back inside the castle.

Eamon stood stoically in the study, his arm resting on the mantle of the fireplace as his old hazel eyes gazed into the flames. His furrowed brow payed a stark testament to the stress inside of him as his mind wandered over the details of the prior month's events.

He had been informed of the news that Anora was to wed Prince Marlori by a those few souls in the royal palace who still remained loyal to Alistair and wished to see him returned to his rightful place. They risked facing charges of treason if they were ever found out, but they funneled the information to the arl, nonetheless.

Eamon figured the reason behind Anora's secrecy over the matter was that somehow the Anitvans were involved in helping to give her back the crown. That meant this was to be more than just a mere marriage of convenience. The Anitivans had to be getting something substantial in return that only having Marlori take Anora's hand would justify. Had Anora sold off Ferelden's future simply for the sake of being made queen? Eamon knew Anora could be a ruthless politician and craved power as much as any, but he couldn't believe that she would knowingly sacrifice Ferelden in such a way. And as much as that was to digest, there was still more. Somehow, the Orlisians were involved as well, which was why it was urgent that Eamon speak with Fergus at once.

"Arl Eamon, such a pleasant surprise." Fergus chirped when he entered the study. "I feel as though I haven't spoken to you in...days."

"I apologize for my unexpected presence, Teyrn Fergus, but there are matters of which we must speak." Eamon replied, turning from the fireplace to face the teyrn.

"Surely we could have talked at your estate in Denerim?"

"I dared not risk it. There are too many ears in Denerim, and none may know of this conversation." the old statesman explained.

Eamon then proceeded to fill Fergus in on everything he'd been hearing: How Anora planned to marry Marlori and bring the kingdoms of Ferelden and Antiva under one banner, although he wasn't sure to what extent the Antivan's would control the affairs of the country. It could be nothing more than the proposed trade routes in question, but the arl had a suspicion it was far more than that. Then there was the matter of Arl Bryland and his attempts to gain control of the Northern Passage, and with it, most of Highever Teynir. And while he couldn't be sure, his sources told him that the Orlisians were behind it; making a play for the western half of Ferelden. They were aware that as long as the ancestral homeland of the Cousland family remained intact, there would be no way for them to secure the coastline along the Waking Sea in the manner they wished.

"We've been outmaneuvered at every turn." Eamon said. "The minds behind this ploy have spent a great deal of time learning the ways of Fereldan politics and how to navigate them. They've managed to cut off virtually every means of stopping or exposing them. But as long as Highever remains under the watchful gaze of the Coulsand family, we still have a chance. We cannot allow Arl Bryland to gain any more land."

"How do we do that? I could rally my men against him, but I see little point in doing so." Fergus replied.

"That would be nothing short of suicide. You may have many men under you who are loyal and brave, but Bryland has the backing of an entire empire. What is needed here is a more subversive approach."

"I'm not sure I follow you. Are you suggesting that we spy on Arl Bryland?"

"We have little choice. We must find the source of his motivation. Once we are able to counter that, he'll have little need to bend to the Orlisian Empress' will."

"Who would be crazy enough to do such a thing? It's treason to spy on a lord. Anyone caught would be executed." Fergus reminded the arl.

Eamon stroked his beard. He was troubled by the notion of spying and the unclean feeling it gave him. "True, there are undeniable risks involved." he said. "However, it isn't as though this sort of thing has never happened before. Bickering lords often spy on each other in an attempt to gain any leverage over their rivals." the arl reasoned, trying to convince himself as much as the teyrn.

"If you're thinking of who I think you're thinking of, you can forget it. Dwemer has been far too busy sulking. He'd never agree to do something as insane as this."

"I can think of no other person suited for the task than your brother. The Warden's uncanny ability to succeed where all others would fail is precisely what we need. And should he find himself in a bind, his unequaled skill with a blade would serve to get him out of any mess."

"He'll never go for the idea, not in a million years."

"Then we shall have to find a way to convince him."

"That's not going to be easy, you know. If there's one thing about my brother that I'm sure of, he's as stubborn as they come. If he's set his mind to retiring, I doubt even the Maker could make him change it. The only person he listens to at all is that witch of his." Fergus explained.

Suddenly, the teyrn's eyes light up as an epiphany struck him. Perhaps there was a way for them to get through to The Warden. "That gives me an idea..." he said. "We shouldn't be trying to convince Dwemer at all. The person we _should_ talk to is..."

"Morrigan." Eamon interrupted, nodding his head in agreement.

* * *

Morrigan stood out back behind the cottage, humming a tune to herself as she was hanging wet laundry over a thin rope that she had strung between two trees. It had been a good while since she had any alone time, and even though she was tending to chores, and although it was unexpected, she welcomed the solitude. The Warden had gone for the day, taking Alistair and Edalweiss with him, and Seth had just laid down for his nap and wouldn't be up again for at least a couple of hours.

The day started out like so many others as of late, with the witch rising out of bed, feeling far more aches and pains than she normally should, and making herself ready to face the world. She removed her bed clothes, reached into her large wardrobe and picked a suitable outfit to wear. While the top fit as it should, Morrigan was finding that her skirt was a bit more snug that she remembered it being before. She stood in front of the mirror and slid the front of her skirt down enough to completely expose her stomach.

The witch let out a long depressing sigh when she saw the first outward sign of her pregnancy starting to reveal itself. While it was no more than the smallest of bulges, to her, it may as well have been a mountain. Before long, she would be scampering about wearing anything that fit her bloated stomach, too self-conscious to be seen in public. Even though she treasured the life that grew within her, the toll it took on her once magnificent body was hard for her to bear.

She failed to notice that this was one of the rare occasions that her warden had risen before her. Nearly always it was she who was awake first, since growing up in an extravagant castle surrounded by servants turned The Warden into something less than a morning person. He would rise at dawn if he was required to for some reason, although he was loath to do so, but most days he wasn't known to rise until mid morning or later.

The bedroom door flung open and The Warden stepped in, startling Morrigan a bit. Her eyes instantly went to his spot on the bed to find it empty, as if she was amazed it was really him.

He stood next to her and placed a soft kiss against her cheek, saying "Good morning, beautiful." as he did.

The witch rolled her eyes and groaned. "Your eyes are obviously failing you, otherwise you would plainly see how horrid I appear." she grumbled.

"Women the world over would give everything they have to look as 'horrid' as you." he replied with a smirk.

"Flatterer." the witch quipped.

"It's only flattery if you're trying to get on someone's good side. You know I mean every word of it."

"You've a fair disposition, considering the sun has barely risen. 'Tis such a rare thing to encounter from you so early in the day. It does make one curious. Am I to assume that the wayward Grey Warden has at last found his direction?" she asked, referring to her husband's demeanor as of late.

"I guess so. I know it sounds strange, but I feel great...like the weight of the world was lifted off my shoulders." he replied. The tone of his voice was quite different then it had been the previous weeks. He was sounding more like his old self again.

"So you have made your decision, have you?"

"I have. I'm heading to the castle to talk to Fergus. I saw him and his men returning from Denerim a short while ago."

A knot tied itself into Morrigan's stomach. She was the one who told her warden to accept his fate, that restoring Alistair's crown would be the only thing to make him feel whole again. But she hadn't counted on it taking such an immediate affect. She was starting to question her actions, unsure of what their eventual cost would be.

"Oh...I see." she muttered.

"You don't sound very happy about it. Didn't you tell me you thought it was best if I got this out of the way?" he asked as he took her hands in his and gently squeezed.

"I did, indeed. However, I had not intended on you leaving me so soon. One would get the impression..." Morrigan paused briefly, her gaze falling to the floor. "..._I_ get the impression that you are purposefully trying to avoid me."

"Where would get a crazy idea like that? I'm doing this so we _can_ spend time together; without any distractions for once."

"If that is so, why are you so anxious to rush off to see Fergus?"

The Warden cocked his head and raised and eyebrow at his witch. "Ah, I think I'm finally starting to see. You think I'm leaving and won't be back for a long time." he said, casting her a sly grin. "Admit it, you're going to miss me."

Morrigan let out a long groan. "Must we delve into this nonsense yet again?" she quipped, turning her head from him.

He reached out and guided her chin so that their eyes met once more. "Admit it." he repeated.

After a few seconds, the glare in her eyes softened. "I admit it." she said weakly. "I admit that I shall miss you terribly. Does hearing me say that please you?"

"You know it does."

"Curse you Dwemer Cousland. Curse you and this damnable weakness which you have instilled in me."

"I love you, too." he replied, moving in closer to nuzzle his nose against her soft cheek. "Besides, you don't have anything to worry about. I'm only going to see Fergus to get a lay of the land and find out what's been going on. I'll be back before sundown."

"Insufferable ass! You could have said as much." Morrigan exclaimed. "Why must you always feel the need to humiliate me?"

"I wasn't trying to humiliate you. I promise. Even though I know how you feel, it's just nice to hear you say the words every once in a while. Is that really so bad?"

The witch started to let loose a verbal assault to inform him of just how insipid his behavior was. These were serious matters they were dealing with and there was precious little time for his childish games. But before the words could come, she remembered that even though she disliked needless sentimentality, she did rather enjoy how his words and actions made her feel. And as odd as it seemed, it was reasonable to assume that hers had the same affect on him.

"No...I suppose not." she sighed.

"Alright..." The Warden said, eying his witch a bit suspiciously, hardly believing she was going to let him off that easily. "I guess I'll be on my way then. The sooner I go, the sooner I can get back." he finished, giving her soft hands one last squeeze before turning to head out the door.

"Dwemer..." Morrigan said just as he was almost out of the room. "I shall make an agreement with you."

"Oh really? What's that?"

"Deal with whomever is responsible for dethroning Alistair quickly and ensure this will be the last such endeavor you undertake and I shall do my best to tell you every day how important you are to me without having to be provoked into doing so."

"You better believe you have a deal. That's definitely something worth fighting for."

The witch giggled at her warden's reply. "Go, silly ass. I shall await your return this evening."

"I'm going to see if Alistair and Eda want to go, too. I'm sure you wouldn't mind having the place to yourself for a while. You and Seth can make a day of it."

"I can think of worse things." Morrigan agreed.

The Warden strolled down the short hall to the temporary guest room. In a few months it would serve as the bedroom of the newest arrival. Until then, it was where Edalweiss slept. She enjoyed the comfort of a plush warm bed while Alistair camped out in the den, forced to keep company with the dog.

It turned out the Edalwiess was more than happy to go with The Warden. She'd gotten rather tired of being cooped up in a small cottage and was ready to see the sights that Highever had to offer. Alistair also agreed to join The Warden, though more out of not wanting to feel left out than for any other reason. After waiting an extra bit for Alistair to get himself ready, The Warden, Alistair, and Edalweiss ventured off in the morning sun toward Castle Cousland, leaving Morrigan and Seth alone in the cottage.

After the witch prepared Seth's breakfast, she and her son spent the rest of the morning out back, by the small river. She pointed out the names of the various flora and fauna while he wriggled and squirmed impatiently on the muddy bank, digging his fingers into the damp soil every now and again and tossing a few clumps into the water. She would ask him questions about the flowers she just named, in order to make sure he was actually paying attention. Most of the time he was able to provide the correct answer. However Morrigan soon realized she was fighting an uphill battle and allowed Seth to give in to his urges and splash about in the shallows.

When the boy tired and fell asleep, Morrigan laid him gently on the couch and decided it was time to finally get some much-needed chores done. She grabbed a basket full of wet clothes and scurried outside to hang them on the line.

The tune she hummed while working was an old Chasind song. A song about a beautiful maiden who lost her way and was devoured by the wild beasts of the forest. As far as Chasind songs went, it was a rather uplifting ditty.

A light sound caught Morrigan's ears. She had trained herself to hear the faintest rustles when Seth was an infant, and that skill had served her well on several occasions when the child had awakened prematurely or, more importantly, was doing something he shouldn't have been.

She heard a soft whisper in the wind, as if it was calling to her. A small patch of grass near her started to sway in a gentle swirling breeze. Oddly enough, though, the event seemed to be localized to that small area. Morrigan looked around to see that there wasn't even the slightest hint of a breeze anywhere else. Her eyes swung back to focus one the dancing blades of grass.

Faint points of light began appearing over the grass, skipping almost playfully through the air. More and more lights started popping up, soon accompanied by a growing mist. The mist swirled in a tight circle, rotating ever faster and growing wider and higher. The very air crackled and hissed with energy. Bolts of light shot forth, startling the witch a bit. And then, before Morrigan's eyes, a figure started to appear, as if someone was stepping out of the mist.

First a slender foot crept out, then a shapely leg, all the way up to a firm thigh. Elegant hands shot out, attached to long, smooth arms. A face was beginning to take shape, that of a beautiful woman with long flowing hair. And in a flash of bright light, the mist and lights disappeared. In their place stood a tall, thin woman wearing a decorative light blue gown. Her long hair was perfectly straight, not possessing even the slightest wrinkle or curl and was as white as the new fallen snow. Her milky skin was smooth and soft. She looked just like an angel.

"_You_!" Morrigan gasped in shock.


	18. Chapter 18

**Part XVIII**

It had been a good while since The Warden was at the castle of his birth. For most of his life he called Castle Cousland home. It was where he and his witch were wed, and Seth even took his first steps inside these mighty stone walls. But ever since he and Morrigan moved into the cottage, he rarely found time to visit, even though he could plainly see the tall towers of the castle in the distance from outside his quaint cottage.

The Warden never tired of seeing the alternating banners of the Cousland family, with it's illustrious laurel wreaths spread out to resemble two magnificent wings, and banners of the herald of Highever, a green drop of rain crossed by two dark-green spears, laid out over the parapets and draped from every balcony. They fluttered and flapped slightly in the soft breeze, giving the appearance that the castle, itself, was alive and breathing.

Guards dressed in shiny armor, patrolled the wallwalk that extended completely around the castle, broken up every so often by a guard tower. Most of the men where recent acquisitions, having only been recruited in the months since the attack by the Order. From the time he was a small child, up until the terrible night that set him on his path, The Warden had always seen the same faces around the castle. The castle's cook at the time, Nan, even started out as The Warden's nanny when he was a baby. Now however, it seemed as if the faces in the castle were always changing. He saw new servants or guardsmen nearly every time he visited.

"This place is _huge_!" Edalweiss exclaimed, as she, The Warden, Muirghein (who had chosen to become invisible for obvious reasons), and Alistair approached the heavy gate that marked the entrance.

"It's not _that_ big." Alistair retorted. "I thought my palace was much nicer."

"What are you talking about?" The Warden interjected. "Castle Cousland is twice the size of the royal palace...at least."

"It might be bigger, but that's only because the palace is set in the middle of a city. There wasn't room to make it huge. Maybe if it was built out in the middle of nowhere, like this place is, it would have been larger." Alistair shot back, defensively. Turning to Edalweiss, he added, "besides, it's not all about the size of it. You would know all about that, wouldn't you?"

"Is that supposed to be another joke about my height?" the small woman huffed, preparing her foot for another sharp blow to Alistair's constantly aching shin.

Alistair furiously waved his hands in front of him, trying to dissuade her for kicking him yet again. "No, no. Not at all. I merely meant that you of all people know that good things sometimes come in small packages. It's more or less on how you use it that really matters." he replied.

"I don't know about that. " she said calmly before letting her lips curve into a sly grin. "Sometimes size does matter. A girl has to see for herself to know for sure."

"Are we still talking about castles, or are you trying to admit to something, Alistair?" The Warden joked.

"Oh, ha-ha. It must be make fun of Alistair day again," Alistair groaned, "just like yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that..."

The Warden smirked and shook his head. "If you didn't make it so easy..."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Alistair asked, shocked at the very idea that he could bring the constant torment onto himself. "You know what? Never mind. I don't even want to know. Let's just go see Fergus and get this over with."

The Warden and Edalweiss grinned at each other, satisfied to see Alistair so flustered again. The four of them went past the gate and into the large courtyard. As they walked, Edalweiss acknowledged Muirghein's comments about the castle that were audible only to her.

"Yes, I know." she would said out loud to no one. "We don't have anything like this back in Nevarra."

"Me, too." she'd reply to thin air while gawking at the towers rising into the sky. "I bet it's ancient."

"That fish-ghost gives me the creeps sometimes." Alistair whispered to The Warden.

"You've just never been connected to someone like that." his friend whispered back.

The magical connection The Warden had to his witch must not be unlike the connection shared by Edalwiess and Muirghein, The Warden thought. His link to her allowed him to feel her emotions and know where she was at all times. And although it was a source of great annoyance to the witch, The Warden figured Edalweiss and Muirghein's link was probably similar, except that it was felt by them both.

Before long, they came to the foot of the steps leading up to the large wooden door at the top. As they were walking up the stairs, the main door suddenly swung open, revealing Arl Eamon and a few of his most trusted men, joined by Fergus, who was talking to the arl, blissfully unaware of his brother's presence.

"Warden. Alistair. This is certainly an unexpected surprise. The teyrn and I were just discussing the both of you." Arl Eamon said when he saw The Warden and his companions.

"I'll bet you were." The Warden quipped as he cast a curious eye toward his brother.

"It's good to see you are well, Alistair. I was more than a little concerned about you." Eamon remarked as he looked the former king over from top to bottom.

"It's nice to know your expectations of me haven't been raised any." Alistair replied to the arl, as if he was a bit incensed at the thought that he was unable to care for himself properly. "I'm not the same little boy who ran through the castle at Redcliffe half-naked."

"No, you're not. You've grown into a fine man. But I will always worry about you."

"Tell me, little brother, what brings you back home? I doubt this is just a social visit, seeing as how you're son isn't with you." Fergus said, returning The Warden's stare with one of his own.

"Unfortunately, no, this isn't just a social call. There are some things we need to talk about. It's a good coincidence that Arl Eamon is here, too. I'm sure he'll want to be in on the discussion."

"It's been my experience, Warden, that there are no such things as coincidence. The Maker has chosen to bring the four of us together again for a reason." Eamon replied before looking over his shoulder at his man and saying, "It would seem our business here is not concluded, after all. Wait for me while the teyrn and I talk with The Warden and Alistair."

"Yes, my lord." one of the arl's men responded, dutifully.

"Well?" Fergus asked, looking at his brother expectantly.

"Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your new friend?"

"Oh, I almost forgot. Eda, this is my brother, Fergus, Teyrn of Highever. Fergus, this is Edalweiss, a friend of mine."

"Pardon my brother's rudeness. Dwemer easily forgets his manners sometimes. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance." Fergus said, giving a cordial bow as he did. "Will you be joining us as well, my dear?"

Edalweiss said nothing for a few seconds, staring blankly back at the teyrn, until she realized whom he meant. "Oh! You meant me." she spat out. "No no no. You men can have your stuffy meeting. Muiren and me are going into the village to walk around and see the sights."

"I'm afraid the village doesn't have much to offer right now as we're still in the process rebuilding. But feel free to wander around. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask." Fergus offered, smiling widely.

"Uhm...alright." replied, as if she was unsure what to make of the teyrn. "If I'm not back by the time you're finished, you know where to find me." she finished as she turned to head back down the stairs.

"Come then, we have much work to do and not a great deal of time in which to do it." Eamon said as he ushered the others back to the study.

The Warden leaned over and whispered to Alistair, "better watch out, old friend. I think Fergus has eyes for Eda. If you're not careful, he might wind up stealing her away from you."

Alistair's eyes grew wide at the insinuation. "Bah! He can have her for all I care. That girl is nothing but trouble." he huffed back.

* * *

"'Tis good that you have come." Morrigan said to the creature that appeared before her out of thin air; the witch's hands starting to glow as she focused her magical powers. "It saves me the trouble of having to track you down."

"I'm not here to fight with you." the angel replied calmly.

"Then you shall meet your end as the coward you are." Morrigan exclaimed as she shot forth blasts of energy from her hands.

The demoness barely had time to raise a magical barrier around herself before Morrigan's attack struck; the blows explosively impacting against the protective bubble and causing it to crack under the strain. It was apparent the witch had only one thing on her mind: The utter destruction of the creature who had taken her husband and caused her and her warden so much trouble.

"Will you listen to reason for a moment?" the demoness cried as she huddled beneath her protective shell.

"I've no intentions of listening to your lies." Morrigan shot back as she prepared to let loose another deadly volley.

"If you destroy me, then you eliminate any chance of your precious warden's survival."

The demon's words caused Morrigan to balk. Her hands hovered in the air, still glowing, but she did not fling her power at the demon. "What are you saying?" the witch asked cautiously; making sure not to lower her guard in case this was yet another of the demon's many tricks.

"I'm saying that you need my help, unless, of course, you desire that your husband meet his fate on some cold and lonely field, hundreds of miles from home."

"I've no time for your games, monster. Say what you mean and be careful not let that tongue of yours slip. I am in a foul enough mood already." Morrigan relented while she lowered her hands but still made sure to keep a watchful eye. "If I suspect for an instant that you are lying to me, the words you speak shall be your last."

"I assure what I have to say is the absolute truth. If you chose to ignore my warning, then everyone in Ferelden stands to lose, including myself."

"Out with it, then. Say what you have come to say." Morrigan demanded, folding her arms and casting a distrustful glare at the demoness.

"As you wish." the angel sighed. "I am aware of the current state of Ferelden's government. However, I am also aware of things which you are not. I know who is responsible for the turmoil that's been caused, more importantly, I know how you can set it right."

"Explain yourself, demon. How could you possibly know what The Warden, himself, does not?"

"I am able to see into the minds of those who are involved. I know what they know; whether they are alive or dead. My powers are not limited to the mortal realm." The demon explained. "Your new queen has made a pact with the Antivans, and to a lesser extent, the Orlisians. While they do not yet control this land, their goals are within reach. They intend to divide Ferelden equally between them, with Antiva controlling the east and Orlias the west."

"I fail to see how that concerns me." Morrigan retorted. "The struggle for power is as old as time, itself. Let the fools do as they will. They are merely the most recent in a long line of tyrants and dictators, and will most certainly not be the last of their kind."

"Why do you think this Arl Bryland has been after control of the ancestral home of the Couslands? Because his Orlisian masters instructed him to do so, that's why. It was they, along with the Antivan known as Raythorne, who orchestrated the king's untimely departure." The demon informed. "And what do you think will happen when the Orilisians finally force your beloved warden's family from power, hmm? They will be cast from these lands, if not slaughtered outright. But I can help you ensure that never happens."

"Why would a demon care what happens to the world of men?" the witch asked, still not entirely convinced of the angel's sincerity.

"While the king may have been a pious fool, to be sure, under his rule there were many changes; some of which you, yourself, helped to bring about. These changes resulted in a more relaxed attitude toward certain schools of thought and ideas. The changes in policies held by the Circle of Magi being a prime example of that new attitude. Under the strict rule of the Antivans, and especially the Orlisians, these new freedoms would certainly be lost. You might even find yourself fighting off the templars once again. Doesn't that concern you at all?"

"I had not thought of that. 'Tis not something I find pleasant." Morrigan begrudgingly admitted. "However, you've still not answered the question: Why should you care?"

"Because, witch, if these mortals have learned to accept you, perhaps one day they might accept me as well."

"Why would a demon care what humans think?" Morrigan questioned aloud as she thought about the matter. "'Twould only happen if there was reason for such concern."

"I have my reasons, witch. Do not dwell on them. You must stay focused on what's important." the demon interrupted, attempting to derail the witch's train of thought.

"Could it be possible?" Morrigan asked herself, ignoring the demon. "There can be only one explanation. It all makes perfect sense now..."

"My affairs are none of your business, human. I'll not warn you again."

"You've fallen in love...with a human!" the witch exclaimed, chuckling with delight over the revelation.

"What a preposterous accusation!" the demoness fumed. "I knew coming here was a mistake. This fiasco is nothing but a waste of time."

"If you believe that to be so, then leave. I care not what you do so long as you remain far from me and what is mine." the witch said, casually dismissing the demon's anger. "You may count yourself fortunate I even grant you the opportunity to depart from these premises in one piece."

Morrigan could see the rage seething in the demon's eyes, and it gave the witch no small amount of pleasure to know that her words had struck so deeply. A satisfied grin crawled across the witch's face as she watched the angel turn in a tiff and prepare to leave the way she came. The swirling mists that announced the arrival of the demon returned, and with it, the glowing portal to somewhere distant. Just as the demoness was about to step through the hovering tear in reality, Morrigan remembered what the creature said about her warden not surviving and a shudder ran down her spine at the notion. Though she was convinced that she would regret doing so, the witch knew she couldn't let the demoness leave without finding out more, and what, if anything, could be done to prevent the dismal outcome.

With a regretful sigh, the witch spoke up, saying, "however, were I you, I would give great thought to the possibility of what might happen to you if what you claim truly comes to pass, not to mention the fate of the unfortunate soul whom you've chosen as your consort."

The demon paused. For the first time since her creation many centuries before, the creature had something to live for; something to fight for. Morrigan recognized the look on the angel's face. It was a look that showed uncertainty at dealing with the new emotions that were coursing through her, yet desperate to hang on to these newly discovered feelings even though they flew in the face of everything that was logical.

"Don't you think I've considered every possibility already? Do you think I came here expecting to be warmly greeted and treated as an honored guest?" the demon asked. "Believe me, I didn't have anyone else I could turn to, otherwise I would have."

"How odd, indeed." Morrigan replied. "You knew you would be putting your own life at risk by revealing yourself to me, and still you chose to do so. 'Tis more than I ever thought possible from your ilk. As much as I am amazed to admit it, there may yet be truth to your words."

"When I took your warden from you, I searched his mind to find out everything I could about you in order to be able to recreate you as perfectly as I could. What I found was more than I ever bargained for."

"It's strange, really." The demon continued. "I know things about him that you could never dream, and yet even with that, you will still know him in ways I never will. Your warden would die a thousand agonizing deaths for you. And even though he is not a spiritual man, his motives are pure. He doesn't care for rewards, glory, or power. I've never encountered another like him in all my years. It stirred something. Something awoke inside of me. As if a part of me that I never even knew existed had come to life. I felt empty and hollow."

As much as Morrigan hated to admit it, she knew exactly what the demon meant. She too felt the very same things when The Warden first cast his powerful spell on her. As wicked as Flemeth was, her entire fate was defined by one man and the love that was ripped away from her. If the witch and the hag couldn't escape the power of love, perhaps its reach could extend to even demons.

"He has that affect. I understand far more than you realize." Morrigan said. "So you have indeed fallen for a mortal man. You do realize 'tis a most dangerous game you play."

The creature turned back to face the witch with eyes that showed something Morrigan never thought possible from a demon: Regret. "I realize that. If we were to be found out, he would be labeled as blood mage and surely be put to death. I don't want that to happen." the demoness muttered. "Even with King Alistair on the throne I understand we won't always be safe, but at least we'd have a chance, and that's all I'm asking for. The same chance you had."

"I owe you nothing. Lest you have forgotten, 'twas you who stole away my husband from me. If anything, the debt is yours to repay. Why not simply intervene on your own behalf?"

"I'm no warrior or diplomat. I don't have any allies to call on to aid me in battle."

"So your desire is for The Warden to do your work for you. If you cannot fight and cannot bargain, of what use are you to him?"

"Not just to The Warden, but to you as well." The demon corrected. "I helped your king escape before with the agreement that in return my life be spared. Now I am offering something more substantial. I can show you how to put things back the way they were before."

"I see." the witch replied, knowing there was a catch. "And what is it that you want in return for this information?"

"I want the same thing you want: To be left in peace and allowed to live my life without outside interference." the angel said. "Surely that isn't such a steep price to pay for what I offer."

"Who's to say your aid is even required? If you know my husband as well as you claim, then you are aware he is quite capable of resolving the situation without you."

"He probably is. But it will take him far longer to search for the source, if he ever really finds it, which in turn would keep him from you for an extended period of time. If you _want_ the father of your unborn child to be somewhere in a far off land fighting for you, then I suppose that's your business."

"What do you know of my unborn child?" the witch asked, shocked that the demon knew.

"Don't be so surprised. I can sense its soul growing inside you. It's why you are here and he is not, even though you long to be by his side." the demoness said. "And unless you wish for your warden to die, you must be at his side when he goes into battle."

"How...how are you aware of this?"

"Because I have seen it. I've seen the vision of your warden's battered and broken body. Only you can save him."

"I cannot be with him this time. I must care for the child."

The demon grinned a bit and looked straight into Morrigan's eyes, as if she was trying to pierce the witch's soul with her gaze. "That's where I come in." she said in a smooth and confident voice. "With my help, you will be able to go with him without worry of your unborn son."

"_Son_?" Morrigan gasped. "'Tis not possible for you to know...I can...cannot go with him..."

"If you believe nothing else I tell you, then believe that his very life depends on you being there for him when he needs you most. I know you don't want to lose another child as you did before. I offer you another way, but you must trust me."

"What do you propose?" Morrigan inquired, still somewhat shaken by the onslaught of information and the possible outcome it could bring.

"Allow me to carry the child for you." the demon answered casually. "I have the ability and my body can accommodate the babe for a good while so that you may help your warden complete his task."

"You are mad!" Morrigan exclaimed, instinctively covering her stomach with her hands. "If 'twas even possible, I would allow no such thing!"

"Then we have nothing further to say to each other. I had hoped you'd be reasonable, but alas, some things are not meant to be." the demoness said with a thoughtful sigh as she turned to face the portal once more.

"Wait!" Morrigan cried, causing the demon to stop in her tracks. "If we were to do such a thing, how would it be accomplished?"


	19. Chapter 19

**Part IXX**

It had definitely been one of the more eventful days as of late. The Warden and Alistair were at Castle Cousland and had a long meeting with Teyrn Fergus and Arl Eamon, where the two had been briefed on the current state of events, while Edalweiss wandered the streets of Highever to do a bit of sight-seeing with Muirghein. But even after hours of deliberating on the matters at hand, none of the men could come up with a plan to spy on Arl Bryland that didn't involve significant risks.

While all four of them agreed that Bryland was the key to unraveling Anora's deal, it was not as simple as just setting up outside his castle and watching him. In order to glean any useful information, they would have to know what Bryland knew, and one could hardly gather that sort of insight by merely watching the man from a distance. Someone was going to have to get close enough to see what the arl saw, hear what he said, and to whom he said it to. That was no easy task, considering The Warden's popularity would make it impossible for him to blend in around Bryland's castle. He would be recognized the moment he set foot on the castle grounds.

The idea of having The Warden act as though he had changed his mind and was in favor of Bryland's actions was floated about, but it was quickly dropped as all sides agreed that, given the nature of the arl's intentions and The Warden's past history, it would never really be a believable or plausible story. No one would ever consider that The Warden was ever loyal to anyone other than Alistair or that he might think to betray his brother.

The only thing that any of them could be certain about was that they were running out of time. Bryland would be making his move to grab more land, and without Alistair in power, they wouldn't have the political backing to do anything about it. The four men reasoned that most of the more powerful and influential lords had already been bribed or otherwise placated into following Bryland's lead so that whatever could be done to stop Bryland was going to have to be done with little or no outside help. They were on their own.

The only thing that was settled for certain was that The Warden decided no matter what the case, he needed to be where Bryland's castle was in South Reach. Eamon encouraged The Warden to have patience, telling him that rushing off headlong was a brash and foolish decision that could undermine everything they were trying to fight for. Whatever course of action was to be taken could only be considered after a well thought out plan. Much to Eamon's dismay, however, The Warden confidently asserted that any plan he needed, he could come up with along the way. As both Alistair and Fergus could attest, that was generally how The Warden did things anyway.

After the meeting concluded, The Warden and Alistair made their way from the study back out to the castle courtyard, hoping to find Edalweiss there waiting for them. That was not to be the case, however, as the pair found no trace of the small woman anywhere inside the castle. Considering the length of the meeting and the fact that there really wasn't all that much to see in Highever, other than old burned out buildings being demolished and replaced with new ones, only some of which were finished, both men figured Edalweiss would have had plenty of opportunity in which to peruse the sights and make it back before it was time to return to the cottage.

The men caught sight of a small group of the teyrn's guards moving off in the direction of the village. The pair watched the soldiers file out through the castle gate and head down the dusty road. The realization of why the soldiers were being sent hit both The Warden and Alistair at the same time.

"Edalweiss." they both said in unison.

Alistair let out a long groan. "What's that crazy girl done now?" he asked.

The duo hurried to catch up with the soldiers as they marched double-time into the village. Each man gave a hearty nod in recognition to The Warden and the former king when they passed on their way up to the front of the line, to the sergeant at arms.

"My lords." the sergeant said as he gave a deep respectful nod of his own.

"What's all the hurry sergeant?" The Warden inquired from the man, who had already drawn his sharp, gleaming blade and was ready for action.

"There's been report of a disturbance in the village. The captain ordered us to look into it." the sergeant replied.

"What sort of disturbance?"

"Apparently, someone gave the baker and his wife a good start. The bakery just re-opened a few weeks ago, but from what I'm told, the place is already in quite a mess."

"I hope you don't mind if we tag along."

"Not at all, my lord."

The Warden and Alistair arrived at the baker's to see smoke pouring out of one of the windows. The baker and his wife were outside, looking as though they had just lived through something very traumatic. He consoled her in his arms while she trembled and muttered incoherently. The couple both had what appeared to be bits of various baked goods stuck to every part of their bodies from head to toe. It was quite apparent that something very odd and strange had happened to them, indeed.

"What's going on here?" the sergeant shouted out in a firm voice, letting all in the area know that he was now in charge of the scene and the situation was under control.

"She's a witch I tell you!" the baker's wife blurted out, her fast and hectic speech making it very hard to understand her. "She has this innocent look to her, but don't be fooled. She cavorts with demons and other monsters. Don't be fooled. She's a bloody witch!"

"Just look what that girl and that...monster...did to my bakery." the old baker said, gesturing toward the open door of the building and the smoking mess inside. "It's ruined I tell you, ruined! All because of that...that..._girl_!"

"Does that sound familiar to you?" The Warden whispered toward Alistair who rolled his eyes and gave a nod.

"Alright, old man, tell me exactly what happened." the sergeant said, doing his best to calm the baker.

"I...I don't even know where to start..."

"Try starting from the beginning."

The old baker tapped his fingertips together as his mind brought him back to the start of the event. He took a deep breath and began to convey his story. "I was setting out some pies that I just got done baking to cool on the sill of the large window in the front. I had no sooner placed the first batch of pies and gone back for more when this girl appeared out of nowhere. She seemed to be talking to herself, but not just talking. It looked almost like she was scolding someone who wasn't there. I thought she was mad at first...until...until..."

"Until what?" the sergeant asked impatiently waiting for answer.

"Well, until one of the pies lifted from the ledge all by itself and disappeared. It was like someone, or something, gobbled it down. There wasn't any trace of it left, I tell you."

"Right..." the sergeant muttered, only half-believing the old man.

"It's true! But that wasn't even the worst of it."

"Go on."

"I started yelling at the girl, telling her she needed to pay for the pie she took, when all of the sudden, I felt something slam into me. I didn't see anything, but whatever it was hit me hard enough to knock me flat on my backside. My wife came over to help me up, and that's when it happened."

"What happened? What did you see, old man?"

"A...fi...fish. A fish appeared right there in front of us."

"A fish, you say?" the sergeant inquired, thinking the old man had been out in the sun a tad too long.

"I saw it I tell you!" the baker huffed. "It was plain as day. But this fish wasn't swimming in any water. No ser, it was floating in the air. The thing was definitely on about something, too. It made these strange noises like it was trying to tell me something, like it was angry with me. That's when my wife saw the creature. It nearly scared the ghost right out of her body."

"So what did you do?"

"I tried to back away from the thing as quickly as I could. I knew that the monster would surely try to eat me. We grabbed the only things we could reach and starting throwing them at it, hoping to drive it off. But it only seemed to enrage the beast and it attacked us, destroying our bakery."

"You seem no worse for wear to me." the sergeant noted.

"We barely escaped with our lives!" the man exclaimed. "The girl seemed to have some sort of control over the monster, because when she called to it the creature listened. They both shot off down the alley. That was the last I saw of them."

"I see. So you're telling me one small girl did all this damage?"

"You have to find her, sergeant! She's extremely dangerous! Maker only knows what vile plans she's forming in that evil skull of hers."

"Alright, lets everybody just settle down." the sergeant urged.

The Warden stepped up to the couple with a reassuring look on his face. "Sergeant, if I may?" he offered.

"Certainly, Warden."

With a comforting voice, The Warden began to talk to the couple and assure them that everything was going to be just fine. Being the Hero of Ferelden came in handy under these kinds of circumstances, as people were more often than not inclined to believe him when he spoke. That, combined with his natural charm, and deep pockets, soon had the frightened couple feeling much better and their worries began to ease.

As The Warden dealt with the baker and his wife, Alistair, who was standing near the corner of the building, felt a pair of small arms from some unseen person reach out, grab him, and tug him into the dark alleyway. After the shock of it passed, Alistair was less than surprised to see who it was.

"I should have known." Alistair said. "We can't leave you alone without you destroying half the village, can we?"

"I wasn't my fault!" Edalwiess huffed in a loud whisper. "They were the ones who started it."

"I'm sure they were." Alistair replied with a thick note of sarcasm. "I'm not even sure I want to know what happened."

"It's not like we did anything wrong. What kind of person leaves pies out in the open like that, anyway?"

"Every baker in Ferelden." Alistair quipped. "I thought your family were merchants in Nevara. Haven't you ever heard of displaying your wares?"

"Muiren just wanted a taste, that's all. Before I knew it, that crazy old woman is throwing all sorts of things at us. We barely made it out of there in one piece!"

"Right, so _you're_ the victim here..."

"Why do you always have to act like such a jerkface?" Edalweiss fumed. "Me and Muiren were just minding our own business."

"Speaking of that floating disaster, where is he?"

A few chirps and clicks emanated from somewhere and the fish acknowledged Alistair by poking his head out of the wall in which he was hiding. With a few flicks of his tail he popped out of the wall and floated around the small woman, giving clicks and whistles as if the creature were trying to corroborate the small woman's version of events.

They all heard the sound of boots stomping against the ground in rhythmic time and turned to see the group of soldiers marching off back towards the castle. Whatever The Warden told the couple, it was apparently enough for them to adequately consider the situation resolved. The Warden, noticing that Alistair had vanished from view, walked around the corner to see where his friend had gotten off to. The first thing that Edalweiss and Alistair noticed when The Warden turned the corner into the alley, however, was his expression. It wasn't the look of a man who had just successfully settled a stressful situation, it was the look of someone who was very troubled.

"What is it?" Alistair asked.

"I'm not sure. Something happened with Morrigan. I can feel it. We need to get back to the cottage immediately." The Warden answered in a voice that seemed somewhat distracted.

"Is she in some kind of trouble?" Edalweiss asked.

"I don't think so." The Warden replied, his thoughts still elsewhere. "It was as if she was angry with something. Very angry. At first I thought Seth or Leo may have done something, but I haven't felt her this angry in a long time. But then, it changed. Now she's worried and uncertain. Whatever it is, I need to get back right to her away."

The group headed out of the village, back toward the cottage that lay several miles distant. While they weren't running, their pace was quite a bit faster than it ordinarily would have been. The Warden hurried to return to his witch as her emotions drew him to her like a bright beacon.

When they arrived back at the cottage, The Warden barged in through the front door. Storming inside, he glanced around for any sign of the witch but saw none. His eyes didn't see her anywhere, which was confirmed by his connection that told him she was still several yards away. With a few large and hurried steps, The Warden opened the rear door and stepped out the back.

There is where The Warden found Morrigan, sitting on an old stump not far from her drying laundry which was still draped over the lines; the damp fabric flapping and rustling in the light breeze. A few yards away, Seth was busy with his favorite pastime: Teasing the dog, completely oblivious to the troubles of the world around him as he held some tasty tidbit just out of reach. The look on Morrigan's face as she watched her son showed that she was deep in thought, but her warden's connection informed him that it was much more than that. He got the impression from her that one has when faced with a no win scenario.

Alistair, Edalweiss, and Muirghein soon appeared through the door behind The Warden to find him staring blankly at his bride and her staring blankly at their son. Alistair, realizing that a very long and personal conversation was about to ensue, placed his hand on Edalweiss' shoulder and ushered her back through the door, saying "We need to let those two have a bit of privacy." as he and the small woman, followed as always by the fish, went back inside, leaving The Warden to find out exactly what was troubling the witch so deeply.

"So, you have returned." the witch said, still looking at Seth while the young boy gleefully toyed with the massive mabari.

"I got the feeling something was wrong. I could feel it." The Warden replied as he walked slowly closer to her.

"I might have known. You are always fearful that I may yet become some damsel in distress, needing to be saved like some poor helpless thing."

"Morrigan, I didn't mean it like that. I was just worried about you. We've already had threats from the Crows. Who knows what else could happen while I'm not here?"

"I do not fault you, my love. I believe you shall always yearn to be my protector, whether 'tis willingly or not." the witch said with a long sigh before finally looking up at him. "However, in this instance you may be more correct than I care to admit."

"What's wrong? What's bothering you?"

"A proposition has been made." the witch explained. "One that I am not entirely comfortable with, and yet may not be able to avoid."

"What are you talking about? What sort of proposition? Who was here while I was gone?" The Warden asked in rapid succession as he sat down next to his witch on the large stump.

"I shall answer all your questions. But first, you must answer mine." she replied, taking his hand in hers and gently squeezing it. "I must know which do you value more, the lives of our children or your own?"

"Do you really need to ask that? I think you know the answer already." he answered while he placed his other large, strong hand over hers and held it. "Of course I value or children's lives more than my own. What father wouldn't? Why are you even asking me this?"

"While the answer seems so plain to you, concerning your life...'tis not so with me." Morrigan said as her golden eyes stared deeply into his. "While I would cherish any child we have together, the thought of losing you for whatever reason is unbearable."

"You're not making any sense. What aren't you telling me? Morrigan...who was here?"

"While you were away, I was visited by an old acquaintance of yours: 'Twas the desire demon that stole you away from me."

"The demon was here? That explains a great deal. At least now I know why you got angry."

"Anger was one emotion I felt, yes." the witch concurred. "I sought to use the opportunity to be rid of the thing once and for all. However, the demon professed to having a very good reason for showing herself. Oddly enough, it would seem that Alistair's rule was beneficial even to her and that I may be forced to expand where I've always considered the boundaries of love to lie."

"I don't understand. Are you telling me that the demon has found someone...you know..special to her? I don't think that seems very likely."

"As did I. 'Twas always my understanding that demons and their kind were not capable of such things, either through choice or by design." the witch agreed. "Although, this particular demon has shown the ability to express regret and remorse, something far different from any others like her I've encountered before. 'Tis quite possible the creature may have truly found love. At least she claimed as much."

"That's absurd. Don't tell me you actually believe her. She's obviously lying in order to get her hands on something." The Warden replied, scarcely able to believe his witch was even considering the demon's honesty.

"Perhaps so. Though, as is usually the case, 'tis not so black and white as all that. Can you not recall a time were I was no different than she? The demon does indeed desire to satisfy her own ends, however, it may not be as you'd expect. All she wants is to be left in peace so that she may pursue her newfound life without risk of outside threat and ridicule. I, myself, desired no different."

"So, what you're saying is that she's afraid a new regime would make that impossible for her? Alright, that much actually makes some sense."

"It would not only make it more difficult for her, but for you and me as well, my love. Would such a ruler even care to honor the Writ? What would become of _our_ marriage?" Morrigan asked.

"I hadn't thought about that." The Warden relented. "But the Writ comes from the Chantry, not from any king. They would be forced to honor it."

"Publicly, yes. However, in private, who can say? What would prevent this new ruler from sending his knights to hunt down me and our son like animals?"

"You have a point. But none of that matters now because I've already decided to get involved again. I'll find whoever is behind this plot and stop them long before anything bad can happen to you."

Morrigan's gaze trailed away from his eyes. She stared off into the distance as if she was contemplating what the future held in store. "Were it only that simple. However, there is more that I've not told you." she said softly.

His strong fingers gently guided her face back to his and he looked her deep into her large golden orbs. "Then tell me. Whatever it is, I need to know. You know there isn't anything you can't tell me."

The witch let out a long sigh, knowing that their conversation would eventually lead to this, and dreading every second of it. "Unless I accompany you on your quest, you will surely die. Whether 'tis before or after your goal is accomplished, I do not know. 'Tis not what matters to me."

"Did the demon tell you that?" he asked rhetorically, rolling his eyes and letting out a slight groan. "Morrigan, I'll be just fine. You are worrying about nothing."

"It would be unwise to dismiss the demon's claims so quickly. There may yet be truth to them."

"Aren't you the person who told me that no one can tell what the future holds?"

"'Twas I, indeed. However, who can say that those powers lay beyond the reach of demons? I find it troubling that your concern for me is valid, yet mine of you is not. I assure you, my love, the threat is very real." Morrigan retorted, sounding a bit annoyed that her warden cast aside her worry so easily.

"I'm sorry. That's not what I meant to imply." he replied in a rather apologetic voice. "What about the baby, though? And Seth? How would you be able to go with me? As much as I'd like for you to, I don't see how that can happen."

"That would involve the proposition I mentioned earlier." the witch said, cautiously gauging his reaction, as if to see how best to proceed. Morrigan paused for a minute to collect her thoughts. What she had to tell him next was probably the most difficult thing she'd ever had to do. Even on the night of the Dark Ritual that saved her warden's life, the conflict raging within her was not as great. When Flemeth forced the witch's hand and made her reveal the bargain she had struck out of her own selfish needs, Morrigan was still sure the he would find a way to understand and forgive her. But this may be too great a burden for even their love, especially if it ended in failure. Would he ever find a way to forgive her if such a thing happened? The witch had already lost one child and didn't wish to lose another, but she held no desire to lose her warden, either. It would seem that those were her only choices, though. At least with the demon's bargain there was a chance that everything would be alright in the end, which was something that almost never happened. "The demon has offered to carry our child for me so that I may join you."

"Carry? What do you mean carry? As in _carry_ carry?"

"I do. The demon will allow the child to remain inside her as if it were me."

"And you're seriously considering that?" The Warden asked, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. "Absolutely not. Out of the question. That's just insane."

"Dwemer, please. Consider the alternative should I refuse. Are you truly so eager for your children to be raised without a father?"

"Listen to yourself, Morrigan. Do you even know what you're saying? How do you know the demon won't just take our child and run?"

"Because the demon is aware that any such deception would result in her painful, slow death. There would be no safe haven for her in this world nor the next." the witch replied sternly and confidently. "I am asking you to trust me as you never have before."

"I do trust you. But this is our child's future we're talking about."

Initially, her reaction to the idea was much the same as her warden's, but upon considering it further, the witch came to the conclusion that she would hate herself if The Warden was killed and she had done nothing to prevent it. Morrigan's voice softened to that sincere tone she saved only for him, saying, "we've little choice. If there are other means by which to avert your death, we've no time to seek them out. The demon's offer is the only way. You have asked that I show you your importance to me. Be assured in knowing that I cannot imagine my life without you in it. You are everything to me. I cannot risk losing you. 'Tis my greatest fear."

His stoney gaze relaxed when he saw how troubled his witch really was. He had always been rather careless with his life and risked death on many occasions without the slightest concern. His bones had been broken and his own blood was spilled in the service of others, and he never once thought about the consequences. But seeing his witch's eyes looking up at him, The Warden realized for the first time just how much his own life mattered to someone else; how much it mattered to _her_. He was capable of many feats and deeds and was called a hero by some and a savior by others, but the one thing The Warden could never do was knowingly cause his witch pain.

His fingers wrapped around her delicate chin as he tried to lose himself in her beautiful golden stare. "Give me some time to think about it." he said.

"The demon shall return in the morning, expecting my answer." Morrigan replied as she pulled his hand to her lips and softly kissed it.

"I'll let you know my decision before she arrives."


	20. Chapter 20

**Part XX**

It really was a remarkable thing, the witch thought to herself, how a person's life can deviate so greatly from its intended course. There could be subtle changes to one's path, almost without hardly a notice, and then there were major life-changing events which stood out and would serve to describe who that person was to become. For Morrigan, it always seemed to be the latter of the two.

How odd it was that she found herself in her present situation. Not only did it go against everything she was led to believe when she was a young witch growing up in the wilds, such as the obvious contradictions to what Flemeth had told her, of course, but it was so much more than that. It was something she struggled to explain, even though she often tried very hard to do so.

Here was the witch, a lowly creature from the wilds who was barely versed in the ways of etiquette and seemingly lacking any social graces, and yet, through some miracle, this witch was able to melt the heart of a man from the highest levels of nobility. Perhaps the most remarkable part was that she hadn't even tried, or at least she didn't consciously make an effort at it. Not at first, anyway. Morrigan thought that maybe her heart had conspired against her and deftly guided her toward this man with whom she would otherwise have little or no contact.

As unbelievable as that notion was, the witch figured it was probably the most likely reason. After all, she was admittedly quite taken with him the very first time her eyes spied him through the thick underbrush that lay on the edges of the Grey Warden encampment at Ostagar. In her wolf-form, she followed the man, along with several other Grey Warden recruits, as they journeyed deep into her wilds at the behest of one of the senior wardens.

Right away, Morrigan could tell he was a natural leader, directing the others while they tried to find an old abandoned Grey Warden post. His skills with a blade were unequaled as he easily dispatched more than his fair share of darkspawn that attacked the small group. She could tell he was clearly superior to the other men who accompanied him. The witch was fascinated. She had to learn more about this man. To that end, she chose to reveal herself to the group.

His reaction to her was equally unexpected from what she'd grown accustomed to. While the others with him showed the usual detriment, he was cordial and polite. It was something the witch was almost completely unprepared for, but she didn't show it.

When the time came for her to join this man on his journey, uneasiness filled her bosom. She hid the trepidation, however, and acted as though she was merely upset at being uprooted from her home only to be sent on a fool's errand. But she couldn't hide the curiosity about him from herself. He was a distraction. A very dangerous distraction, indeed.

As much as Morrigan tried to distance herself from him, she found she was unable to. By the time they reached Lothering, the two of them had already spent many hours talking to one another. She found herself asking questions about him that she had never cared to know about others, and in return, she revealed a great deal more of herself to him than she would have liked to. Without her realizing it, something had started between the two of them.

As much as the witch tried to play the game with her newfound toy and enjoy the moment, she was having difficulty staying focused. She promised herself that what they had was merely a physical attraction and it would be unwise to pursue things further. Unfortunately, however, some promises are not meant to be kept, no matter how strong the intentions.

He would shower her with gifts, anything from the expensive trinkets and baubles he knew she relished, to affectionate words and deeds. The whole scenario was driving her completely mad. He was breaking down the thick walls around her heart faster than she was able to repair them.

And before she knew it, it was too late. He had gone and done the unthinkable. When he learned that Flemeth posed a threat to her, he immediately marched off and took care of the old hag to ensure Morrigan's safety. Without the promise of any sort of reward other than her gratitude, he risked his life and their entire mission in order to save her. There was no turning back. The witch had fallen totally in love with him.

For most people, it's a satisfying revelation to know that one is in love, but for Morrigan, it was terrifying. Doubts began to creep into her mind. She started to question his true intentions. Did he truly feel the same way about her? If not, then what was to become of her when his little game ran its course? She had known other men to profess the same things that he did, but it was always with their own needs in mind. She imagined on many occasions him mocking how foolish she was for ever believing she meant anything real to him. He was highborn and she was barely a lowly commoner, raised deep in the wilds and far from the influence of others. She would be a fool to expect they would be able to have any sort of life together. She knew it was best if she just broke things off, but she didn't have the strength to. For the first time in her life, Morrigan greatly desired to be able to openly discuss such matters without feeling so...weak. So she did the only thing she could think to do in order to protect herself: She left. She packed up her belongings after the Battle of Denerim and left without saying a word to him. It was for the best, she told herself. In time her feelings for him would fade, and with it, the power he held over her.

But, as with all things, it was seldom so easy as that. Not only did the feelings she held for him not fade, but she was constantly tormented by the memory of him. Everywhere she looked she saw his face. He haunted her dreams every night. More than anything, Morrigan wanted to be held in his strong arms one last time.

To make matters even worse, the ring she had given to him as a gift led the witch to believe that he was thinking of her as often as she was thinking about him. Whether it was true or whether it was merely her own subconscious playing games with her, she didn't know. In any event, the torment was more than she could take. After many hours of trial and error, Morrigan found a way to silence the damned thing once and for all, and in so doing, severing the final link between the two of them, or so she thought.

Much to her amazement, he was able to track her down and find her hiding out in the eastern Brecillian Forest. At first, she refused to believe it was actually him, instead figuring it to be one of the many spirits in the area that was toying with her. Upon confirming his identity, though, the witch was forced to admit that he did indeed feel as deeply for her as she did for him.

Sine their reunion, their lives together had been far from easy. They faced many struggles and challenges along the way. But after everything was said and done, they still had each other, despite how much the gods seemed to wish otherwise.

And, as always, there were those damned choices. Not the simple run-of-the-mill choices most couples face, such as what to have for supper and whom to invite, or what type of house to live in and what color it should be, but life-altering decisions that always threatened to rip them apart, with each being more dreadful than the last.

He chose to face Flemeth on her behalf, to partake in her ritual, to seek her out when she left, and he chose death rather than let Flemeth harm her and their son. The choices he made were always because of her. And now, she had presented him with possibly the hardest choice of all: Trust a demon to carry their unborn child or face certain death. Although, in truth, it was really more her choice than his. But the child growing inside her was just as much a part of him as it was her. If she did make such a decision without consulting him beforehand, the witch feared it could be the final incident to drive him away once and for all.

He had done so much for her sake, and Morrigan felt she hadn't really reciprocated. She felt as though she owed her warden a great deal. And instead of thanking him for his efforts, she chose to constantly remind him of the promises he made to her. It's wasn't that she didn't appreciate what he did for her, because she very much did. There just didn't seem to ever be an opportunity for her to repay him in the manner she thought he deserved.

Perhaps, Morrigan thought, expressing herself better _was _what he deserved. After all, he did seem to make such a fuss over it most of the time. But it wasn't as easy as it sounded. It's not as if she didn't try, because she genuinely had, and even thought she'd made quite a bit of progress. But old habits die hard. She had always guarded her feelings closely. Not because she didn't trust him, but rather because exposing herself like that made her feel vulnerable and more than slightly silly.

Then a thought occurred to Morrigan: Maybe that truly was all he wanted. She was aware of how devoted he was to her, and even though he knew how much she cared for him, perhaps it did mean as much to him that she be more affectionate as he'd said many times in the past. It's not as though it was like it used to be. She freely accepted his touch in the presence of others and would often tell him what he meant to her if she was made to.

Perhaps there was the problem. She rarely told him of her love and devotion without being pressed into doing so. The witch had no clue why something of that sort could be so important to him. He knew without a doubt that she would be unable to live without him, what need was there to repeat the statement over and over?

Then Morrigan imagined how it would feel if he refrained from showering her with affection. The mere idea of it was quite unpleasant. She'd always taken his doting for granted. Even though he could be excessive at times, that was still far superior than the alternative. It served to physically reaffirm her connection to him. The witch failed to realize just how important it was to her until now. Would it be so odd to think that he wouldn't feel the same?

That's when Morrigan made a life-altering choice of her own. If her warden valued her affection and what she spoke to him so greatly, she would do her best to make sure he received it as often as she could. If for no other reason then because she felt it was what he deserved from her in return for everything he'd given and done for her. That is, when they actually had the time together to focus on such things.

These were the thoughts that ran through Morrigan's mind as she paced and waited for The Warden's decision about the child. He'd asked to be alone so that he could consider the matter without being distracted. He spent much of the night doing what he normally did when he was deep in thought: Sitting by the blazing fire out back and staring into the flames while his mind pursued every possible outcome and the effects it would have.

It took him the entire night to deliberate on the matter. Usually he was forced into making these types of choices on a moments notice with little or no prior warning. For once, he was given plenty of opportunity to think things through, and he used his time wisely. As dawn broke over the distant horizon, The Warden opened the back door and stepped inside to find his witch there anxiously awaiting him. He was apparently not the only one who'd been awake all night.

"Have you come to a decision?" Morrigan asked in an unusually unsure tone.

"Nearly." he responded while walking up to her and wrapping his arms around her, holding her against him. "I have a few questions first, like how will all this be carried out?"

Morrigan slid her hands up and began to lightly stroke his chest. "'Twill be a magical transfer." she answered.

"Transfer? You mean like teleportation?" He asked, glancing down at his witch with a curious stare. "But I didn't think you knew any teleportation spells. Isn't that what you told me?"

"'Tis true that I have never possessed a need for that sort of magic in the past. Such abilities, however, are far from impossible for me to learn." she replied as her slender index finger traced circles against his chest. "You no doubt recall the tome I acquired when we were in Denerim. Within its pages there lies such a spell. With some minor modifications, it would suit my needs quite decently."

"But this isn't the same as just relocating a person from one place to another, Morrigan. What about everything else that goes with it?"

"The demon will have to adapt her body to receive the babe, which should pose no trouble for her at all. The child will be quite safe once the transfer has been made. Although, I feel the need to warn you that in any event, the transfer will not be stable for long. The child was meant to be carried by me and should I be unable to return the child to its proper place, I fear there could be substantial damage."

"That doesn't sound very good. Exactly how long are we talking about here?"

"I dare not risk more than two weeks. To prolong it further would be unwise."

His next question was the one she was dreading most, but knew he would ask. It epitomized their entire relationship in just a few short words. "Is this what _you _want?" he asked.

"Dwemer..." she said softly. "Do not base your answer on what you think I desire, but rather on what you think is best. While I've no wish for you to be harmed, I also feel strongly that this choice be made for the right reasons. For both our sakes."

The witch paused, her soft hand moving up to caress his stubbled cheeks. "Let us imagine, for the sake of argument, that this is what I desire. If something terrible should befall our child, does that then mean I am to blame? 'Tis not a responsibility I wish to be burdened with. If this is something that we chose to do, then we shall do it together."

"You're right, of course." he agreed, clasping her hand in his and holding it against his face. "I'm so lucky to have such a wise and intelligent wife." he said with a small grin.

"Indeed, you are." she replied in her usual knowing tone. "However, 'tis I who am truly fortunate to have such a man that would freely give his own life for me. 'Tis not something I wish to lose."

"You know that I don't understand magic very well. What you take for granted is completely beyond me most of the time. I wish I did know more about it, maybe then this would be an easier choice to make." he said. "But one thing that I do know is that I trust you to do what you think is best for our family. I don't think you would have even considered the demon's offer if there wasn't a good reason. As you know, it's the risks that worry me. But if you really think that you can keep the demon honest, then I guess I can go along with it."

The giggled and rolled her eyes at he warden's answer. "As usual, 'twas a somewhat vapid reply. However, 'tis most encouraging to know that I have earned your trust. There was a time when I thought I had lost that forever."

"Even though most of the time I don't have any clue what you're saying, you sound so damned sexy saying it." he said as his lips moved in to nuzzle against her soft neck.

"_Ass_!" the witch chuckled as she gave his arm a good whack. "You know full well what I am saying. You merely choose to feign ignorance to satisfy your own twisted ends."

"What?" he replied with a goofy blank stare.

"Impossible man." the witch huffed.

Morrigan was aware the he wasn't being serious, of course. The Warden often used humor and sarcasm to deflate tense situations. It was a trait that both Cousland men shared in abundance. Most of the time she found her warden's actions to be irritating, but in this instance she welcomed his light-hearted remarks. The hours of stress had been draining for both of them and a good laugh went a long way toward relieving the pressure.

"'Tis settled, then. When the demon arrives I shall inform her that we are to proceed." Morrigan said.

"Will there be anything I need to do?" The Warden asked.

"Perhaps it would be wise for you to make your presence known to the demon, lest she entertain any thoughts of breaking our arrangement. I highly doubt the creature would seriously consider any such deception upon seeing you."

"I can do that. I'd like to be there anyway." he remarked with a hearty nod. "Is there anything else?"

The witch cast a seductive look at The Warden; complete with a sly smile. Her golden orbs seemed to say, '_there are many things I wish for you to do' _with their hypnotic stare.

He returned her gaze with a look of his own that said, _'I love it when you look at me like that_'.

She spoke only two words, but the were among his two favorite words in existence, especially when she put them together. "Kiss me." she commanded.

The Warden happily did as he was requested and lowered his lips to hers; pressing them together with all the passion and feeling he could muster. His arms went around her much-smaller frame and pulled her closer to him while the witch offered no resistance, freely wilting under his tender embrace.

* * *

Fergus was on his way to the main hall to begin another long day in his official capacity as teyrn. As always, there was a long list of people whom he needed to deal with concerning a variety of topics. Most of the matters had to deal with the reconstruction of the village and the many debates and squabbles that arose out of those endeavors. Some shopkeep would complain that his store wasn't ready when it should have been, or one of the engineers overseeing the project would gripe that he didn't have the necessary materials or manpower, still others would haggle over new property lines or the locations assigned to them. Not long after Fergus assumed the duties of being teyrn, he realized that any illusion of it being a glamorous and rewarding job soon faded with the harsh reality that he was basically a glorified problem-solver. Sometimes he felt he would gladly trade all the power, fame, and coin if people could learn to settle their differences on their own.

What most people saw as a life spent in luxury, rubbing shoulders with high-ranking dignitaries from all over Thedas in extravagant balls thrown in their honor, he saw as nothing more than boring rituals that lowered him to the role of playing kiss-arse for a night in order to appease some dimwitted foreign snob. He thought the entire experience was quite droll.

It was times like those when Fergus greatly envied his brother and the freedom with which he lived his life. Although, considering everything The Warden had gone through and what he'd achieved, Fergus figured that his brother had probably more than earned the life he had.

As Fergus strolled through the corridors toward the great hall, each set of sentries snapped to rigid attention when he passed; acknowledging his presence with a stout "Good morning, my lord."

Just before he rounded the last turn to the large wooden doors that marked the entrance to the hall, he heard the rapid footfalls of someone running up behind him. Fergus turned to see a young courier racing at him holding what looked like a folded piece of paper in his hands. It was a letter. And judging by the courier's urgency, a fairly important letter at that.

"Teyrn Fergus!" the young man shouted. "I bring you an urgent letter from Arl Bryland."

"Bryland?" Fergus asked, casting the man a quizzical look. "What in the Maker's name would he be sending me a letter for? Doesn't he have the stones to even face me when he tries to steal my lands?"

"I'm sure I don't know, my lord. But the arl insisted that you read it at once. He says it's of the utmost importance." the courier replied as he handed the piece of folded paper to the teyrn, still huffing and puffing from his run.

"I suppose I should thank you for bringing this to me, although it's probably nothing but more bad news. Anyway, thank you."

"Yes, my lord." the young man said as he bowed deeply then darted off back the way he came.

Fergus eyed the wax seal that held the letter closed. It was Bryland's alright. The mark of the South Reach Arling was clearly pressed into the red wax. Fergus looked the paper over in his hand for a few seconds before letting out a long sigh as he reluctantly opened it. The cracking sound of the hardened wax breaking echoed through the stone hallway. As Fergus began to read the short letter, his eyes widened with surprise. While he was certain there was nothing good written on the paper, what he saw was the furthest thing he could imagine:

_Teyrn Fergus,_

_I'm writing this letter to you not as the Arl of South Reach, but as a worried father. The events that have transpired so far have been a lie. There are forces at work that we must unite to oppose. My regrettable participation in the king's removal was unavoidable considering the men behind this ploy have obtained something very precious to me: My daughter, Habren. She is being held at an unknown location in order to force my compliance. You were a father, yourself, once. If you can find it in your heart to see things through my eyes and allow me to ask of you a favor, I beg that you have your brother seek out the fiends who stole my Habren away from me and eliminate them. If you do this for me, all that I have I would gladly give you in return._

_I have been instructed to head to Highever in order to facilitate the plans of my daughter's captors and make ready for their acquisition of the Highever Teyrnir. I would prefer to discuss how to undo the damage they have done, which is why I've sent this letter ahead of my arrival. You can expect me in two days time._

_Signed,_

_Arl Leonas Bryland_

"Aw, bloody hell!" Fergus groaned.


	21. Chapter 21

**Part XXI**

As expected, just before midmorning a swirling vortex of mist and lights began to form outside the cottage, announcing the return of the desire demon. The demon stepped out of the portal to find both Morrigan and The Warden there waiting for her. The succubus hadn't bothered to conceal herself this time and instead appeared in her true form. Considering that her identity was known to both the witch and her warden, the creature deemed it pointless to waste her energy concealing herself with silly disguises.

"Warden." the demon greeted with a deceptive grin. "It's so nice to see you again. I do wonder, though, does your presence indicate that you've accepted my proposal, or have you simply come to destroy me?"

"Were it The Warden's intent to bring about your demise, you would already be aware of it." Morrigan shot back, glaring fiercely at the demon. "Let us not waste our time with trivial talk. There is much to do."

"As you wish." the demon replied.

Morrigan had already laid out the required items needed to perform the transfer. Next to her was a wooden table that held the magical tome on top, already opened to the proper spell. Beside that rested a small bowl filled with a mixture of ground chalk and ash, as well as a bowl containing pure lyrium. Also resting on the table was a small vial of scented oil in a green bottle that seemed to shimmer slightly as the sun's rays pierced it. Though the witch was well rested and her power was full, the spell was such that she would need the extra lyrium to open a magical conduit between herself and the demon. Without it, there was little chance of creating a stable connection and the procedure was going to be risky enough as it was.

"No tricks, demon." The Warden warned while the demon and Morrigan set about their work.

"I assure you Warden, I have just as much to lose as you do. That's why it's so important that we succeed." the demon said.

"If _this_ doesn't work," The Warden replied, gesturing at the items set up around them, "I'll make sure you lose more than you thought possible."

"I understand." the demoness acknowledged uneasily. "But you have no reason to fear, Warden. The transfer will be a success."

"See that it is." The Warden said as he narrowed his eyes into a stern glare that let the demon know he was in no mood for games.

"Unfortunately, _this_ is the easy part. What comes next will be decidedly more difficult." the succubus noted.

"Why? What comes next?" The Warden asked warily; almost as if he was afraid to hear the answer.

"What comes next, dear Warden, is you doing what only you can." came the demon's cryptic reply.

"I don't know if I like that sound of that very much."

Morrigan snatched the chalky powder from the table and began walking a small circle, sprinkling the white dust on the ground as she went. When she had marked out the desired area she set the bowl back on the table, grabbed the vial of oil, and poured a bit into the remaining powder. With a spoon, Morrigan slowly stirred the contents together, turning it into a sticky paste.

The witch undid her top, pulled it off, and tossed it on the small table. She stood there wearing only her skirt and brassiere; instantly catching The Warden's attention. He hadn't realized just how much her pregnancy was starting to show itself until just now. In the morning sun he could see her belly was visibly more rounded from the life that was growing within. Even with such a revelation, however, his eyes seemed to keep finding their way back to her perfect, round breasts.

Morrigan sighed and rolled her eyes. "Keep your mind where 'tis needed." she scolded. "I've merely no desire to ruin my clothing."

Taking two fingers, the witch scooped out some of the paste from the bowl, and with it she traced a symbol on her stomach in the shape of some mystic rune. She instructed the demon to stand on one side in the circle while she stood across from her on the other half. Again Morrigan dipped her fingers in the bowl and covered her fingers in the chalky paste, and on the demon's stomach drew the exact reverse of the same symbol she drew on herself.

"Prepare yourself, demon. I am ready to begin." Morrigan announced, as she replaced the bowl of paste on the table. "Dwemer, I will need you to hold the tome so that I may read it."

With an understanding nod, The Warden grabbed the book of spells from the table and held it so his witch could clearly see the words and incantations written within; serving as a sort of human pedestal, standing rigid and stiff with his palms facing upward and the book resting on top. He stood as still as possible while Morrigan inspected the pages to make sure she had everything properly prepared. Apparently everything was to her liking as she turned from the book and focused her attention back to the circle.

Raising her arms in the air and closing her eyes, Morrigan began to chant the words to a spell in a slow rhythmic repetition, with each being louder than the one before it. The white outline of the circle in the dirt began to glow, dimly at first but become ever brighter with each recital of the spell, as magical energy started to fill the circle containing the witch and the demon.

"The lyrium! Quickly!" the witch shouted.

The Warden rushed to grab the small bowl of shimmering dust from the table and hand it to Morrigan. She snatched it from his hand and set the bowl down on the ground in the center of the circle and returned to her stance in one fluid motion.

As the mystic powers began to rise to greater heights, the glow they emitted became almost blinding in its radiance. Swirling lights bathed the area in an array of dancing colors of almost every imaginable hue. And just as the magical crescendo was nearing its peak, the witch looked across to the demon as if to inform her the moment was finally at hand.

"'Tis time." Morrigan said. "Are you ready?"

"I am." the demon confirmed.

With a loud yell, Morrigan pulled her arms down violently until they slapped against her sides, invoking the power of the incantation. Energy exploded in a great white sphere from within the circle, blinding The Warden and knocking him backward. The blast tossed him several feet, knocking up bits of debris as he tumbled. Even several shingles on the roof of the cottage were jostled loose as they fell from the roof and split into splinters upon hitting the ground. The closest window shattered and small shards of glass flew about, raining down glistening pieces of glass into the tall grass.

Immediately, the sounds of a startled mabari barking at the disturbance as well as the cries of a frightened small child could be heard coming from inside the cottage. The Warden rolled over in the dirt to see that a smoldering ring of ash burned into the ground was all the remained of the circle. As the last wisps of smoke were carried away by the breeze, he saw his witch lying on the ground. She appeared to be unconscious and unmoving. Across from her in the remains of the circle lay the demon who let out a low moan while she lifted herself back up to stand, staggering a bit and obviously weakened.

"_Morrigan_!" The Warden shouted, as he hopped up and rushed to his witch's side.

Frantically, he scooped Morrigan up in his arms and pulled her closer to him while he knelt next to her. His shaking hands brushed the stray strands of hair from her face as he waited for any clues to her condition. His heart was beating so fast that it threatened to burst right out of his chest.

"If anything happened to you, I swear I'll never forgive myself." he muttered to himself, anxiously waiting for any signs of life.

Eventually, the witch started to come around. She groaned weakly and opened her eyes to see her terrified warden staring down at her. Her golden orbs met his and a wave of relief washed over The Warden.

"Your concern is unnecessary. I am unhurt." she said softly.

"Thank the Maker." he replied. "You could've been killed."

The witch furrowed her brows and cast a curious look up at her husband. "What did you say?" she asked, shocked.

"I said you could have been killed." he repeated.

"'Tis not what I meant." she said, shaking her head. "You clearly said '_Thank the Maker_'. In all our years together, never have I heard you utter such a phrase."

"Oh, that." The Warden replied as he sheepishly put his hand behind his head and gave his neck a few good rubs. "I was worried about you. It just sort of slipped out. It won't happen again, I promise."

"See that it does not."

At that instant, the cottage door swung open and the group that had been patiently waiting inside came storming out, unable to handle the suspense any longer. Edalweiss and Muirghein lead the charge, followed closely by Alistair, Seth, and Leo. They all stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the burned circle in the ground and The Warden kneeling over propping up his witch.

Immediately, Seth raced to his mother's side, not knowing or understanding what had just happened. His large golden eyes, which were filled with worry, looked first at his mother, then up to his father. "Is Mutha huwt?" the nervous child inquired in his toddler-speak.

"Your mother is just fine, Seth." The Warden answered. "She's just tired, is all."

"Did it work?" Edalweiss asked.

Morrigan stared down at her own stomach and noticed it was visibly flatter than it was before. She rubbed it with her hand, feeling as though a large piece of herself was missing. Her stare returned to The Warden's. "It would seem that it has." she confirmed, almost as if she was regretting the decision.

"Not that anyone cares, but I still think this is a very bad idea." Alistair interjected.

Muirghein started to let out his version of a growl when his eyes caught sight of the demon, who was still very much weakened. The succubus eyed the fish warily as she approached The Warden and the witch. Unable to stay on her feet, she collapsed to her knees.

"The transfer was a success. Your child is now safe inside of me." she said.

"You require rest. The spell has greatly weakened you as well." Morrigan noted.

"I will be fine. I only need a few moments to gain my strength."

"As long as my child resides in your belly, you shall do exactly as I tell you. Is that understood?" Morrigan snapped back. "Alistair, assist the demon inside so that she may lie down."

"As you wish." the demon grumbled, reluctantly agreeing.

"Me?" Alistair asked while he pointed to himself. "Why does it always have to be me?"

The Warden, knowing what was coming next, lowered his head while he shook it. He wondered when Alistair would ever learn.

"Because..." the witch started, the venom already quite apparent in her tone, "were it not for you, none of this would have been necessary. Lest your desire is to remain an incompetent oaf and an outcast. In which case, you may pack your belongings and leave. Certainly your absence could only serve to bring peace and I am quite sure I would be better for it. However, if you truly wish to regain what you've lost, I strongly suggest you cease your constant grousing and do as you are asked."

"I..I was only asking." Alistair replied in a much more subdued tone.

He turned to the demon, saying, "Come on, then. Let's get you inside." as he stooped down, put her arm around his shoulder, and hoisted her upward. "Where do you want me to take her?"

"She may rest in the guest bedroom until he regains her strength." Morrigan informed.

"The guest room?" Edalweiss gasped. "But that's where..."

An icy glare from the witch cut the small woman off. "...Uh..I'll help you make her more comfortable, Alistair." Edalweiss said with a cheery grin.

Muirghein offered a few disapproving chirps and clicks to indicate his displeasure at the idea. All the way back to the cottage, the creature floated closely to Edalweiss while making sure to keep a close eye on the desire demon. After spending many centuries in the Fade, himself, Muirghein was apparently quite familiar with the various types of demons and the havoc they could cause. It was clear he had decided not to take any chances with this one, either.

"Come on, Seth. Let's get your mother inside." The Warden called to his son. The boy was more than happy to comply with the request, snuggling up against his mother's leg and doing his best to assist.

"I am quite capable of..." the witch started to say but was unable to finish her sentence, as she was suddenly being tugged up from the ground by a pair of strong arms.

Even though Morrigan wasn't very happy about it, The Warden assisted her to her feet and draped her arm over him so that he bore most of her weight. She insisted that she was perfectly capable of standing on her own, but given the circumstances, he was less than convinced.

"The demon isn't the only one who needs to rest. You need to lay down too." he said.

"I suppose I shall never be rid of your doting, even when there is no child present in me. 'Tis likely you would find any excuse to coddle me as though I am a child." she quipped in return, reluctantly accepting his help.

"And what if it was me that had just gone through what you went through? I seriously doubt you'd let me just get up and walk around. You'd fuss at me about it until you were blue in the face."

"I do not fuss. I simply inform you when you are in error. Without such prodding, 'tis doubtful that you would even be able to function properly most of the time."

"You _do _fuss." he reiterated, shooting a sly grin at his witch. "But I know it's only because you care."

The witch's response was an exasperated groan while she rolled her eyes. "That may be so. However, I would have no need to do so if you did not purposefully encourage it; seeking affection from any source possible."

"Guilty as charged." The Warden replied, smiling. "But can you blame me? I'm married to the most beautiful woman in all Thedas. Other men would give everything they had to be as fortunate as I am."

"Indeed they would." the witch confirmed. "You would do well to remember that."

The Warden chuckled a bit at the witch's comments. "I won't forget it anytime soon, especially since I have you to keep reminding me."

"Impossible man." Morrigan huffed.

Normally, the witch would consider the conversation finished and not give it another thought. But something occurred to her as The Warden walked her toward their cottage: he _was_ more than worthy of her affection. He shouldn't have to go to the extremes that he did in order to get her to show it. It wasn't as if she didn't want him to know he meant everything to her, but she found constant displays of emotion sickened her. It was not something she was accustomed to, nor could she ever see herself growing to accept it. That's not to say that she wouldn't show him the affection he craved from time to time, but Morrigan feared that if she did he would only desire more. And although she told herself that doing so would only cheapen what they had, the truth was she that was more afraid of how silly and awkward it would make her appear. Of all people, to her warden she had to remain strong and independent. But of all people, it was her warden who was worth the risks.

"I do appreciate that you hold me in such high regard." she finally said while she lifted her free hand to caress his chest with a few soft strokes. "I hope 'twill always be so."

He rubbed his hand against her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "I have no doubt in my mind that it will be." he replied.

* * *

As the morning dragged on into afternoon, The Warden was greeted to an unexpected knock at his door. The sound of a fist rapidly pounding at the wood was soon followed by someone shouting from the other side.

"Dwemer, are you in there?" a voice cried out followed by yet more knocking.

The Warden instantly recognized the voice as that of his brother, Fergus. And while the teyrn's presence was not unwelcome, it was certainly unexpected. He hadn't anticipated on seeing the teyrn again for at least another day; when The Warden planned to make his way back to Castle Cousland and meet with his brother one final time before he left for South Reach.

Loud and excited barks from Leo as the beast stood in front of the door, anxiously waiting for it to be opened while his tiny stub of a tail furiously wagged back and forth. The mabari disliked strangers coming to the cottage, but visitors whom he knew were always greeted with such exuberance.

Not far behind Leo, Seth came bringing up the rear, shouting "Unca Fuhgus!" as the tot raced to meet his uncle at the front door.

"Alright, you two." The Warden said as he ushered the child and the mabari back just a bit so that he could open the door.

With a quick flick of his hand, The Warden undid the metal latch that locked the door and opened it wide, revealing Fergus and several of his men. In his hand, the teyrn held a small folded piece of paper and the look he wore was that of a messenger bearing troubling news.

At the first opportunity, the mabari rushed around The Warden, nearly knocking him down in the process, and jumped up onto Fergus, planting large slobbery dog kisses all over the teyrn's face. The soaking onslaught knocked the teryrn back and threatened to topple him over completely.

"Down, Leo!" The Warden shouted. "Get back inside."

Immediately, the beast heeded his master's call and retreated back inside with several disappointed whimpers, leaving the Fergus to wipe away the excessive amount of drool from his face. Leo cowered a bit and slinked past The Warden, trying to dodge his angry glare, and plopped his hide quarters down on the floor.

"Fergus." The Warden greeted while both the mabari and Seth did their best to jockey for position behind him. "What brings you to my humble home?"

"I'm afraid this isn't a social visit, Dwemer. I know you were coming to the castle tomorrow, but this couldn't wait until then. Something's come up." Fergus replied, holding out the slip of paper to his brother as he attempted to wash away the last of the slime.

"What's this?" The Warden asked as he took the note.

"The best way for you to find out is to read it."

The Warden unfolded the paper and studied it for a few moments. His brow tightened while his eyes scanned the words written on the parchment. Just when he thought he had everything figured out and knew exactly what his next step was, another kink was thrown into the plan that turned everything upside down.

After reading the letter again to make sure it was what he thought, The Warden looked up at his brother and asked, "when did you get this?"

"A courier brought it to me early this morning. You can see for yourself that Bryland is already on his way to Highever. That gives us less than two days to find out if this thing is the genuine article or not." Fergus answered, accentuating his remarks by tapping the letter his finger.

"It does make sense. We always knew Bryland wanted the lands from Lothering up to the coast but I never thought him to be the man to do what he did in Denerim. We all thought there had to be more to it, and this might very well be it."

"I was thinking the same thing, but we can't be certain. What if this is just another part of his ploy? What if he's just trying to lure us into a trap?"

"I think there's someone here who might know the answer to that, but I doubt you'll like it very much. It's high time I found out everything she knows and how she found out about it." The Warden said, still staring at the letter he held in his hand.

"What would Morrigan know about all this? Does she have someway of divining it, because if she does, that would be great. I don't see where I wouldn't like that at all." Fergus remarked.

"I wasn't talking about Morrigan. I meant someone else entirely."

"That lovely young woman...what was her name again...the one you've been hanging around with lately. By the way, she isn't here, is she?"

"Eda? No, I wasn't talking about her, either. And yes, she's in the back room helping Alistair." The Warden answered, using his thumb to point back over his shoulder. "I've had quite a few unannounced visitors lately."

"By the Maker! Out with it, then. Who are you talking about?"

"I'll show you, but I know you're not going to like it. But before you say anything, remember that she's the best source of information we have right now." The Warden said to his brother as he motioned for the teyrn to follow him into the cottage. "Come with me. I think you need to see this anyway."


	22. Chapter 22

**Part XXII**

The darkness of night was broken in spots by the street lamps and torches that dotted Denerim's roads and alleys, shedding specks of dim light throughout the city like so many fireflies twinkling against the blackness. An eerie calm filled the air as most of the citizenry were fast asleep; snuggled up comfortably in their respective beds and dreaming about whatever it was they dreamed. Unlike the busy days in which the streets were lined with vendors and merchants as people meandered to and fro while they went about their business, nighttime in Denerim had an almost surreal calmness about it. The many paved roads and avenues which were normally host to a vast array of hustle and bustle where now vacant, save for the few city guards who patrolled them.

Anora stared out of her window down into the city below, wondering just what the people of Denerim were thinking about everything that had transpired over the past few weeks. In her quest to regain the crown, the concerns of the normal citizens was probably the furthest thing from her mind, but now it was something she couldn't get out of her head.

Did they even notice? Did they even care, she asked herself as she looked out toward the many sparkles of light. As much as tried to explain her zeal for power by saying it's what was best for the people of Ferelden, she knew that few of them would even notice a change; their daily lives would go on just as they always had. To them, one ruler was the same as the next for the most part. No matter what that ruler did or changed, little of those actions affected the normal routines of the common folk. Usually, it was only the nobility who felt the affects, while their struggles for power and land waxed or waned depending on who held the throne. As long as their normal routines were uninterrupted, the citizenry remained blissfully unaware of what happened within the walls of the royal palace, aside from the gossip and rumors that were fodder for the many tales that were spun in the corners of local taverns.

Alistair understood that fact and related to it much better than Anora did, she felt. Having lived among them most of his life, he had a better grip of how the common man thought. Even though his short rule was filled with many trials and hardships, as one threat after the next faced Ferelden, Alistair always seemed to remain aware of how the people were fairing, rather than worrying about how Ferelden looked in the eyes of the other nations of Thedas. It was a quality about him that Anora had come to respect. Alistair knew that a king's primary concern was what happened to the people within his country's borders and had acted accordingly. It was something Anora was unsure she could emulate, having been raised in pristine palaces all her life; far removed from the general populace. She was always taught that a ruler must stand above their respective subjects. Alistair's approach was to show the people that he was one of them, that their fears and concerns were his fears and concerns. Now all of that was about to change.

Anora told herself that the deal she made with Marlori was in the best interest of Ferelden; that she was making an investment in the future of the country. But the more she tried to convince herself of her own words, the more she was forced to admit that if she were already queen when Raythorne first approached her, she would have quickly refused such an offer.

But she wasn't queen at the time. She was little more than an outcast living in seclusion. She needed the bargain with Marlori in order to regain her throne. Ferelden needed a strong ruler, not some glorified peasant who happened to get lucky from time to time. Alistair might have served as a passable stop-gap king in her absence, but he didn't have her skills with diplomacy or politics. Eventually he would have bankrupted the kingdom and ruined it. Even with The Warden at his side, Alistair would have surely been overpowered by the nobility at some point and thrown the entire country into chaos. Ferelden needed Anora as its queen, even if the people didn't realize it.

Yet this argument, too, was starting to sound more and more hollow each time Anora tried to make herself believe it. She knew what she did was wrong and that the future ramifications of her actions go serve to undo everything her father had fought his entire life to protect. She cringed as she thought about what he would say. Making any sort of compromise with the Orlisians, even if it was done through the Antivans, was something Loghain would never have tolerated on any level.

There was no way to cover it up anymore. Anora made her decisions and now she had to live with them. There was no turning back at this point. Secretly, she hoped that The Warden was as remarkable a man as the legends claimed he was and that he would find a way to set things right, even if it meant she would lose her crown in the process.

A knock at her chamber door roused Anora from her thoughts. She slowly turned from her spot at the window and went to see who called at such a late hour. She unlocked the door, carefully cracked it open, and peered through the tiny slit to see Prince Marlori standing there with several of his guards.

"Do forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty." he said with a cordial bow. "But I have some rather pressing information you may find important."

"I was about to retire for the night. Couldn't this wait until morning?" Anora asked.

"I'm afraid not. It seems we may have a traitor in our midsts."

"A traitor? Who?"

"I've just been informed that Arl Bryland is scheduled to meet with Teyrn Cousland in Highever."

"How is this news? I was the one who sent him there." Anora replied, hoping to being the conversation to a swift conclusion in order to return to her privacy.

"Yes, Your Majesty, I know. However, it seems as if the arl has made other arrangements than the furthering of our plans. My spies tell me he intends to assist Teyrn Fergus rather than pursue the acquisition of his lands as he was directed." Marlori explained in a polite tone. "If he decides not to honor our arrangement, it could impede our progress substantially."

"That is unfortunate but not entirely unexpected. Bryland is a man of great conscience, Your Highness. The strain of the situation was bound to get to him sooner or later. We shall just have to find another way of ensuring our success."

"I couldn't agree more, my queen. Fortunately, I already have such a plan in place, just in case it was needed."

"Then I will leave you to it. I do not need to be bothered with the particulars. I am sure you and your men are more than capable of handling the matter. Good night, Your Highness."

"Good night to you as well, Your Majesty."

* * *

To say that Fergus was shocked to find a demon resting comfortably in The Warden's guest room would be something of a mild understatement. Of all the potential sources of information the teyrn figured his brother to have, a desire demon was not among them. Fergus was so taken aback by the sight that he completely ignored the small woman beside the bed who was helping to tend to the creature.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Fergus asked his brother, not really knowing if he should be more shocked or angry.

"I told you that you weren't going to like it." The Warden replied calmly. "But she told Morrigan that she knows a great deal about what's going on and who's responsible. She may be our only source."

"So you've decided to take her into your home as a guest? What sort of madness is that?"

The Warden looked over to the small woman who had been putting clean linens in the chest at the foot of the bed and asked, "Eda, would you excuse us for a minute? My brother and I need to have a private conversation."

"Sure. I'll be in the den if you need me." Edalweiss answered with her customary smile before leaving the room.

"Look, Fergus..." The Warden tried to explain, "she told Morrigan that she knows about Raythorne and what he's done to cause Alistair to lose the throne. Considering that demons can see into people's heads and read their thoughts, I think we can assume the information is reliable."

"But that still doesn't explain why you've brought her into your own house and treat her like she's some sort of honored guest. She's a _demon_, Dwemer!" the teyrn retorted in disbelief.

"I might be weakened, gentlemen, but I can assure you that my hearing is as good as it ever was." the demon said as she propped herself up against the soft pillow. "Perhaps it would be best to tell the teyrn of our arrangement, Warden."

"Arrangement? What arrangement? Don't tell me you've actually made a deal with this creature." Fergus fumed, still treating the demon as though she were unworthy for him to talk to directly.

"I can't really tell you about that now. Just believe me when I tell you that everything I've done is absolutely necessary."

"Have you hit your head on something? What in the Maker's name could possibly warrant you making deals with her kind?"

"I know what I'm doing. You're just going to have to trust me on this."

The teyrn started to respond and tell his brother what a complete ass he was, but Fergus knew that The Warden had always been one to take risks when it came to doing what he thought was best, and those risks had always been with good reason. If The Warden had chosen to ally himself with a demon, there had to be a justifiable cause.

"Fine. We'll do it your way for now." Fergus said. "But if there's even a hint of trouble from her..."

"There won't be any trouble. I've already had that talk with her." The Warden interrupted.

"Instead of referring to me as if I weren't even here, you _could_ address me directly." the succubus noted. "I would think that two men with such a prestigious upbringing would have better manners than that."

"Alright, demon, if that's what you want, then I'll talk to you. But only so you can tell me what you know and how you became aware of everything." The Warden replied, taking great care to let his tone inform the demon that he was still in no mood for her games.

"As I already told you, Warden, I am able to see into the minds of the men involved."

"That's not what I meant and you know it. Do you really expect me to believe it was nothing more than random chance that you learned about Raythorne? Even you can't possibly see into the minds of all men at all times. You're only a demon, you're not omnipotent. There's more to it than what you've said. I want to know everything you know, and more importantly, how you learned it."

"All you had to do was ask." the demon said, letting out a long sigh before proceeding to explain what she had come to learn. "As much as we demons may be drawn to mages, we are no less drawn to unsettled spirits in the Fade. Such spirits are never at rest and continually cry out for vengeance against their assassins. Their discord can be quite amusing. While I was in the Fade gathering certain items for my...for someone who is of no importance, I chanced to hear the screams of one of those tortured souls. It was the spirit of a young thief who had been slain by his employer. As I am always fascinated with those sorts of things, I chose to investigate further."

The demon, seeing that her audience was hanging on her every word, slid out of the bed, stood, and walked toward the small window and stared out at the countryside beyond as she continued her tale. "It seemed that this thief had been charged with stealing a letter of some importance, but upon completing his task, the only payment he was offered was at the tip of a sharp blade. I believe you know of the very thief I'm talking about, Warden."

"The one I was tracking down in Denerim. I found him dead behind the Gnawed Noble. His throat was slit." The Warden replied with a knowing nod.

"Very good. You _do_ remember." the demon added with a cold grin. "Naturally, I was intrigued by the poor man, so I set about discovering who it was that killed him. After some searching, I was led to a man by the name of Raythorne; a servant to the royal court of Antiva."

"You've mentioned him before. What's his role in all of this?" The Warden questioned, lowering his gaze on the demon and casting a stern glare.

Turning her back to The Warden to avoid his stare, the demon continued with her explanation. "Raythorne isn't the end of your quest, as you think, merely a facilitator for someone else and their grand scheme. He, like those who serve beneath him, is only carrying out the wishes of his master."

"Marlori!" Fergus exclaimed in realization with a snap of his fingers.

"Exactly." The demon confirmed.

"This is all starting to make sense." The Warden said, as the pieces of the puzzle began to slowly fall into place at last. "Raythorne has the letter stolen and replaces it with a copy, that's why Morrigan didn't detect any magical alterations, because there wasn't any. Next, Raythorne kills the thief so we couldn't do anything to prove it. At the same time, he kidnaps Bryland's daughter so he can leverage the arl into helping him remove Alistair from the throne. And because it's common knowledge that Bryland is wanting to expand his lands, it doesn't raise anyone's suspicions. Raythorne manages this all while remaining in the shadows so nobody is the wiser to what's really going on."

"Anora must have had some clues about what was going on." Fergus reasoned. "I seriously doubt she's totally innocent. After all, it wouldn't have made much sense to topple Alistair without having his replacement already chosen."

"Either way, it's pretty clear what we have to do: Focus on rescuing Habren. Even if Anora is involved, it's not like we can just storm the palace and demand her to tell us. If we free Bryland's daughter, that will remove any influence Raythorne has over him and pretty much end any hopes that the Orlisians have for controlling Highever." The Warden said while a plan of action was already forming in his head. "Hopefully that will form a rift between the Empress and Marlori big enough to distract them while we figure out where to go from there."

The Warden turned to focus his attention on the demon once more. "I don't suppose you know where they're keeping Habren, do you?" he asked.

"I do indeed." the demon replied. "Fortunately, Raythorne hasn't had the opportunity to take her out of the country, as he intended, and she is still being held in Ferelden. There is a small camp at the base of the Frostback Mountains. You will find her there."

"Where is this camp located?"

"West of Orzammar, near the road which leads over the northern peaks toward Orlais."

"Looks like there's been a change of plans then. I'll be headed there instead of South Reach."

"Now hold on a damn minute." Fergus injected, attempting to temper his brother's enthusiasm. "How do we even know she's telling the truth? For all we know, she's making every bit of this up just to lead us on a wild goose chase. You can't trust a demon with anything."

"Two reasons, Fergus: Firstly, she seems to know what's really happening with Antiva and Orlais. I didn't tell her about any of that, so she had to get that information from somewhere."

"Alright, I'll give you that." Fergus conceded. "What's the second thing?"

"She's fully aware that if I even get a hint that she's trying to cross me, her life ends in that instant."

"I assure you gentleman, every word I've spoken was the truth. As I have already said, I have as much at stake as any of you. That alone is my primary motivation." the demon added.

Fergus certainly wasn't pleased with the source of the information, and even though he had a hard time trusting anything a demon said, at least it was something. Before, they didn't have a single tangible clue as to how to proceed next. Now, however, there was a plan that could go a long way toward setting everything back the way it was; the way it was supposed to be.

The strange thing, though, was the constant vigil The Warden seemed to be keeping over the demon. Why would he be so insistent that someone be with the creature at all times? Fergus found it rather puzzling. Perhaps, Fergus thought, his brother was afraid the demon would scamper off without revealing some piece of vital information. If the teyrn had his way, he would have dispatched the demon as soon as he was able to, or at the very least, drive the hideous thing away with the promise that it never return.

Instead, as The Warden and the teyrn left the demon to the comforts of the guest room, The Warden was sure to see that the demon was attended to. He beckoned for the small woman, Edalweiss, to return, as if she had become the demon's de facto nanny. What could possibly cause The Warden to do such a thing, the teyrn wondered to himself. Either way, it did give Fergus the opportunity to dazzle Edalweiss with his natural charms. There was something about the woman that the teyrn found very appealing, even if he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"It's so nice to see you again. I only wish it could be under better circumstances." Fergus said, slipping Edalweiss a small grin and a slight bow.

"Uhm...alright." the small woman replied, shaking her head and giggling a bit as she walked past the teyrn.

As she walked by, The Warden leaned over and whispered "Where's Muiren?"

"He's here." Edalweiss replied.

"Good. Make sure not to let the demon out of your sight. I don't want her bolting off at the first chance she gets."

"Don't worry, even if she tries to hide in the Fade, Muiren will drag her back. She's not going anywhere."

"Thanks, Eda. I owe you one." The Warden offered as he and Fergus left the room and headed back to the den.

Fergus sported a goofy grin and seemed to have his mind wandering while the two brothers walked down the short hallway that led back to the rest of the cottage. It was a look The Warden hadn't seen his brother wear in years; not since the first time Fergus met his future bride, Oriana, had he been so taken with a woman. The Warden knew it could mean only one thing.

"She's quite a lovely creature, isn't she?" Fergus asked rhetorically.

"Who? Eda or the demon?" The Warden questioned in return, his voice brimming with sarcasm.

"Don't be an ass. You know exactly who I'm talking about." the teyrn grumbled. "Did you see the way she looked at me? I think she likes me."

"Considering that she never even opens her eyes, I'd say that she looks at everyone that way."

"I know _that_. But I can feel something different when she walks by me. I felt the same thing when I first met Oriana. I used to catch her staring at me across the room, only to turn away when I noticed."

"Why, I do believe that my dear big brother is smitten with fair Edalweiss." The Warden teased.

"You know what? Just forget it. I don't know why I even bother talking to you about it."

The Warden let out a good chuckle at the teyrn's response. "Don't be such a baby. You know I'm just playing. Have you thought about asking her to have dinner with you?"

"Yes, actually, I have. When this whole mess is settled, I might do just that." Fergus revealed. "Do you think you could put in a good word for me?"

"I'll see what I can do."

The Warden bid his brother farewell, saying that he would see him again in the morning when he stopped by the castle on his way to the Frostback Mountains. The teyrn gathered his men and rode off back to Highever, framed by the sun sinking lower in the late afternoon sky.

Feeling it was probably a good time to look in on his witch and see if she was resting comfortably, The Warden turned and headed back into the cottage. As he passed the window looking out the rear of the building, he managed to spy Alistair sitting by the fire pit with Leo as his only companion. The former king softly stroked the beast who lay in the dirt next to him while he reclined against a large log. The Warden wondered what could be going through his friend's mind. While Alistair was certainly one for brooding, he had never been one for quiet contemplation. Maybe, The Warden thought, now that they had a set of goals, Alistair was trying to put the entire situation into perspective. Although, when it came to the former king, one could never be sure. For all The Warden knew, Alistair could have just as easily been thinking about what he wanted for supper.

With a careful turn of the latch, The Warden slowly opened the door to he and the witch's bed chamber. Peering inside, he was greeted to the sight of Morrigan and Seth curled up together in the large bed. Both were sound asleep. A smile crept across The Warden's face at the peaceful sight and he tried to soak it in as long as he could. Before long, the peace would come to an abrupt end as he and his witch would have to put their skills to the test once more in order to restore Alistair to the throne.

He walked as quietly around the bed as he could, so as not to disturb the slumbering occupants. The mattress sank beneath his weight as he sat down on it next to his sleeping witch. His hand softly stroked the small of her back and Morrigan gave out a soft but approving moan. Her eyes slowly opened and she turned her head to see her warden there smiling at her.

"Hey, beautiful. Did you sleep well?" he asked in a soft whisper.

The witch nodded as she stretched and yawned deeply, trying to shrug off the drowsiness. "I did." she replied. "And what of you? Have you had any chance to rest?"

"Not yet. Fergus came by and we had a talk with the demon."

"I do not imagine that your brother was overjoyed to find us harboring a demon."

"He wasn't at first, but once I explained why she was here, he settled down a bit."

"And what exactly did you explain to him?" Morrigan inquired while she propped herself up, careful not to disturb her son, who was still sleeping quietly beside her.

"I didn't tell him about our arrangement with the demon, only that she held vital information that we need." The Warden answered.

"A wise decision, my love. I highly doubt Fergus would have been very understanding or sympathetic."

"At least he and I were able to question the demon at length. And oddly enough, she was quite helpful in her answers. That is, if what she says can be trusted. I haven't entirely made my mind up about that yet."

"'Tis probably for the best. I, too, still have my doubts as to her sincerity." Morrigan agreed. "Were you able to find out anything useful from her?"

"Yes, I was." The Warden confirmed. "I have a pretty clear picture of what's going on now and what I have to do next."

"And what would that be?" Morrigan asked.

"At first light, we're leaving for the Frostback Mountains." he answered.


	23. Chapter 23

**Part XXIII**

The cool, crisp morning air, which signaled the coming autumn, sent thick layers of mist to hover just above the damp and dew-laden ground. The fog was especially thick over the small river which coursed just behind The Warden's and Morrigan's small cottage, hanging just above the water and obscuring the morning sun; breaking it up into individual rays which continued to streak toward the water's surface while others shot off into the surrounding foliage causing sparkles of light to twinkle and shimmer.

Inside the cottage, The Warden, his witch, and their son made ready to leave. Morrigan and her warden were packing the essentials they would need for the journey west, while the witch made sure Seth had all he required for his stay at Castle Cousland. As was normally the case, Fergus would be the one to look after his nephew as The Warden and the witch went off adventuring. The tot relished the idea of staying at the castle, as he always did, and looked forward to it with great excitement, bounding back and forth and urging his mother to hurry.

Meanwhile, Alistair followed The Warden all about the small cottage, pestering him constantly about wanting to go with. The former king felt as though he was getting dumped off and left behind. He felt as though he provided a very sound and rational argument as to why he should get to accompany The Warden and Morrigan on their quest to free Habren from the clutches of Raythorne's lackeys. Still The Warden remained unconvinced. Try as he might, Alistair was unable to sway his friend and get him to change his mind.

"I don't understand why you're leaving me behind. Who knows how many men Raythorne's got guarding Habren? You'll need me, Dwemer." Alistair pleaded while he shadowed The Warden throughout the cottage.

"We've been over this. We can't risk you getting injured, or worse. I need you to stay here with Eda and help her keep an eye on the demon." The Warden replied, unmoved by his friend's reasoning.

"If that's so, then what if something happens while you're gone? What if the Crows come back?" Alistair asked, hoping he had found a weakness in The Warden's wall.

"Castle Cousland is not far from here. I'm sure you and Eda can make it to the castle if anything does happen. Fergus has plenty of soldiers to protect you, if that's the case."

"What about the demon? Maybe this is just the chance she's been waiting for to strike."

"I seriously doubt that. But if she does, I'm sure Eda and Muiren can handle anything the demon tries to do."

"Are you seriously asking me to put my life in the hands of that...that...floating disaster? I think I'd feel safer with the demon." Alistair huffed.

"Hey!" Edalweiss cried out as she and Muirghein entered the den. "I'm not too happy about it, myself. This is something Dwemer and Morrigan are doing to save _your_ scruffy neck. The least you can do is show a little gratitude."

"I _am_ grateful." Alistair shot back. Turning to face The Warden again, he said, "That's the problem. You've done so much for me and it's hard to sit in the shadows while you and Morrigan do all the work. It doesn't feel right to let you do everything."

"By keeping an eye on the demon until we return, you are helping." The Warden replied. "Besides it's best if Morrigan and I go alone. We can move in undetected. Chances are that if Raythorne wanted to get Habren out of Ferelden, he'd only have a small group of men so they could move faster, with less risk of being noticed. If they make it to Orlais, that's where the fortified position will be. It would be much more difficult to free her from a place like that."

"I guess so." Alistair said with a pout.

"Trust me, this will all be over soon and you'll be cursing me for putting you on the throne a second time." The Warden consoled with a pat to Alistair's back.

"If you hadn't put me on the throne in the first place, none of this would have ever happened. So, in a way, this is all your fault." Alistair rebuffed.

"_Right_..." The Warden quipped. "I'm the one who made you not read the letter."

Alistair let out a long groan. "Fine. I'll stay here and play nurse-maid to the demon. As if being couped up in a cramped cottage with Eda wasn't punishment enough."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the small woman exclaimed in a rather annoyed sounding tone. "You're no prize, either!"

"I meant that I'm tired of getting kicked every time I turn around."

"If you weren't such a jerkface all the time..."

"Alright, you two." The Warden said, stepping in to calm the combatants. "I'm beginning to wonder if I'll even have a house to come back to. Morrigan and I will be gone for more than a week. Do you think you can get along until we return?"

"What are you asking me for?" Alistair asked, as if amazed The Warden could find any fault with him whatsoever. "Ask miss kicky-shins over there."

"I'm asking both of you." The Warden grumbled and rubbed his hand against his forehead. "I think I'd be better off leaving Leo in charge, but I need him to go with me."

"Don't worry, Dwemer. You can count on us. We'll make sure nothing happens while you and Morrigan are gone." Edalweiss assured with a perky smile and a few pats against The Warden's arm.

Having finished packing what was needed, The Warden and Morrigan took their son and left for the castle with the mabari close on their heels. The couple chose to walk while The Warden carried Seth against his hip. The rising sun warmed the air, turning the short trip into a pleasant experience. Although both the witch and her warden were too preoccupied with what lie ahead to take note, Seth marveled at everything that caught his young eyes and was sure to point it all out to his parents with the wonder and excitement that only a toddler could have. Behind them, Leo sniffed furiously at the myriad of different scents that lie along the path, at times venturing deep into the thick scrub and tall grass to see where the smells led, only to see that he was being left behind and quickly raced to join the others, filling the air with excited barks that seemed to request that the others wait up for him.

Once at the castle, the trio found Fergus was there waiting for them. As soon as Seth saw his uncle, he wiggled and fidgeted in The Warden's arms, imploring to be set down. As soon as his tiny feet came into contact with the dirt, he quickly scampered toward his uncle and wrapped his pudgy little arms around Fergus' leg, yelling out gleefully, "Unca Fuhgus!" as he did.

Fergus reached down and hoisted Seth up, mussing the child's hair for good measure. Seth giggled in his uncle's arms and clapped his chubby hands to show his approval. Even though Fergus was The Warden's older brother, Seth viewed him as the closest thing to a real playmate that he had and greatly anticipated the adventures they would share together. Fergus was only all too happy to accommodate his young nephew. Having lost his own son several years ago, the teyrn had grown extremely close to Seth and the lad gave Fergus a rare opportunity to forget about his duties and troubles as teyrn of the Highever Teyrnir, if only for a short while. Morrigan often thought that he spoiled the child entirely too much for his own good, but rarely objected as she was aware of the special bond that connected them.

"Is Bryland here yet?" The Warden asked his brother.

"No, not yet. But I expect him to be along at any time." Fergus replied.

"When he does get here, keep a tight lid on what Morrigan and I are doing. The fewer people that know about it the better. I don't want to risk Raythorne's spies finding out and being prepared for us like they always seem to be."

"What do you want me to tell him, then?"

"Tell him that I'm looking into what he said."

"I can do that." Fergus confirmed. "How long do you two plan on being gone?"

"We only have less than two weeks, so it won't even be that long." The Warden answered.

"Why only two weeks? What happens after that?"

"Nothing very important. It's just something Morrigan and I need to take care of." The Warden replied, indicating that it was a question that he'd rather not answer directly.

"I see..."

"Seth is not to leave your sight while we are away. Is that understood?" Morrigan commanded in a very authoritative voice. "I'll not be forced to worry about his safety."

"Don't worry, he'll be safe with me. I promise I won't let him out of my sight." the teyrn assured before turning to address the child he held.

"So, you little rascal," Fergus said to Seth, "are you ready to spend a few days with your Uncle Fergus? I have all sorts excursions planned for just the two of us."

Seth nodded heartily and beamed a large smile at the thought of the things he and his uncle would do together.

"Here are his things." The Warden said as he handed the teyrn a knapsack containing Seth's belongings. "I'm sorry we can't stay longer, but like I said, we only have a short bit of time so we need to be on our way."

Fergus nodded his understanding, saying, "when you get back though, and this whole mess is finally taken care of, I expect all of us to get together for a while. It's been too long since we did anything as a family."

"We'll see how it plays out." The Warden replied. Turning to his son, he said, "you be good for your uncle while your mother and I are away, Big Man. We'll be back soon."

After the witch stooped to place a gentle kiss on her son's forehead, she slowly turned away to follow her husband down the courtyard steps. She looked over to her warden to see him giving her a knowing glance in reply. Her arms rose into the air and a soft glow began to envelope her, becoming larger and more radiant as her form changed. In a sudden flash of light, a gigantic high dragon stood where the witch was mere seconds before. All who were gathered in the courtyard of the castle looked upon the creature with awe at the sight of the enormous dragon unfurling it's large leathery wings and flapping them, throwing out puffs of wind and kicking up dust which was accompanied by a thunderous roar which could be heard all the way down in the village below.

The Warden hopped up onto the dragon's back and gave out a loud whistle, beckoning the mabari to join him, which Leo did, leaping into his master's arms and very nearly knocking The Warden off the dragon's back before settling down in a somewhat comfortable spot. With a final wave to his son, the beast pushed mightily against the ground and lunged into the sky. The sound of great wings beating against the air echoed off the stone courtyard walls as The Warden and the dragon lifted ever higher before soaring off into the distance and out of view.

* * *

Edalweiss busied herself in the cottage's small kitchen, doing her best to make several fruit-filled delicacies for herself and Muirghein. The counter and floor were covered with layers of flour and smoke billowed from the hot oven as the small woman frantically tried to retrieve her molten concoctions from the heat. Her face was covered in sweat from the warm temperatures of the cramped quarters as well as from her toil. But it was all worth it, she thought. Before long, the pies she was making would be ready to eat. They may not have appeared edible, being covered in lumps and charred in several places, but the pies would still be delicious. At least to her and Muiren, anyway.

Without thinking to grab a towel or any other form of protection, Edalweiss grabbed the iron handle of the oven's door and soon realized her mistake. After barely cracking the door ajar, she quickly snatched back her hand; the intensely hot metal scorching her delicate palm. The oven door clanged loudly as it slammed back shut while Edalweiss shook her stinging hand furiously and searched for something cool and wet with which to soothe the seared flesh.

Hovering behind her as always, Muirghein let out a few sympathetic clicks and chirps, as if he was trying to tell Edalweiss to be more careful. The pies were precious, after all, and the fish didn't want to risk ruining them. At the same time, he didn't want Edalweiss to injure herself in the process. So with his fishy nose, he gently nudged her shoulder and offered a few more chirps.

"I know, Muiren." Edalweiss replied as she reached for a damp cloth that sat on the messy table in front of her. "I'll be more careful."

The small woman held out her aching hand and squeezed it tightly closed. Within seconds, large drips of water began falling to the floor, as if she were wringing out a rag in her fist. She wrapped the small towel around her hand and tied a knot in it, using her teeth to aid her, and went back to the business of the pies.

Her relationship with the demon-fish gave her far more than just sight, it also gave her limited magical abilities and the power to control water in it's various forms. At times, ignorant souls would accuse her of being a rogue mage, a maleficar, or a witch. But in truth, without Muirghein's presence, Edalweiss wouldn't have any magical ability whatsoever. Still, that fact did nothing to quell the jeers of unknowing folk who had often derided her. It was one of the many reasons she had chosen to spend the vast majority of her time alone and secluded from other people. Between the gawking stares at the scars on her face, her magical powers, and having a floating demon-fish as a companion, Edalweiss figured she was better off living on her own. It was best that way.

Even though her family were successful merchants back in Nevarra and held more wealth than many of the nobles, Edalweiss often found it hard to fit in and find a place of her own in the world. That was why she had decided to come to Ferelden several years ago, to get away from the awkwardness that came with being who she was and being attached to such a powerful and respected family.

Ferelden offered her a fresh start where nobody knew who she was, or better still, knew anything about her family and past. She didn't want anyone's pity. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Although, most people she ran across insisted she was far too small and frail to make her own way. Edalweiss refused to let the doubt of others weigh her down, however. She knew what she could accomplish if only given the chance and chose to face each day as a new adventure that was to be explored and celebrated.

Some would suggest that Edalweiss was merely trying to escape the pain and torment of her early life through her whimsical nature. After all, she had lost both her sight and her parents in a terrible accident when she was still very young. But the young woman refused to allow those things to have power over her. Instead, she focused on the good things in her life, such as Muirghein, who came to her and cared for her and made sure she was never alone.

Remembering to use a towel this time, Edalweiss reached into the oven and retrieved her pies. Smoke poured out of the open oven, filling the kitchen, as well as the rest of the cottage, with a thick hazy fog. She looked upon her creations with satisfaction as she set them down on the table, the sounds of the filling bubbling beneath the crust still audible.

"What's burning?" Alistair asked, sniffing the air as he walked into the kitchen.

"Nothing's burning!" Edalweiss huffed back. "I'm making some pies. If you're not nice to me, I won't let you have any!"

A wide grin stretched across Alistair's face. "Seems my luck is finally changing for the better." he said.

"Fine, then. See if I care. Muiren and me will eat them all by ourselves." the small woman fumed, her arms crossed and her face formed into a deep frump.

"Aren't you supposed to be watching the demon? Where is she, anyway?" Alistair asked as he inquisitively pressed a finger against one of the pies to test it before the steamy crust singed his delicate skin and forced him to rapidly withdraw it and insert the throbbing digit into his mouth.

"Those just came out of the oven. They're still very hot." Edalweiss warned, after the fact. "I've been busy. I thought you were looking after her."

"Me? I don't have any idea how to care for a demon. You're the one who seems to attract them, remember?"

"I don't _attract_ them!" Edalweiss shot back. "Muiren was watching me for a long time before he revealed himself. If I wouldn't have had my accident, he might never have shown himself."

"Still, if you were making pies, or whatever these things are, you should have at least let me know." Alistair retorted before storming off toward the back of the cottage. "I suppose someone needs to look in on our _guest_."

Edalweiss heard Alistair's boots stomping against the hard wooden floors as he trampled down the short hall that led to the demon's quarters. The distinctive creak of the door being opened was followed by more footfalls, but these were faster and more frantic. Quick steps were heard, as if Alistair were racing around the room in short bursts.

A minute or so later, he came running back into the kitchen, his face was pale and he almost seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack. "She's gone!" he cried.

* * *

It felt like years since Morrigan was able to assume the form of a different creature. Not since before she became pregnant had the witch had the pleasure of feeling the freedom that came from soaring through the heavens. Recently, her concerns over the welfare of her unborn child prevented her from shape shifting, just in case it would have any ill effects. Being rooted to her human form was starting to feel almost like a kind of prison to her. Changing into other animals was more than second nature for her, and even though she never said anything about it, she was starting to miss doing so very much.

In her dragon form, Morrigan's large, leathery wings beat against the air with unmatched power and grace. The experience was absolutely invigorating. Although she wasn't able to soar and twist through the clouds in the fashion she most wished because of the passengers she carried on her long back, she still savored the moment and hoped it would last.

To the witch's dismay, however, as the sinking sun burrowed itself against the distant horizon, her keen dragon eyes spotted a cluster of several campfires burning in the forest at the base of the mountains. They were many miles from any sort of civilization, flying over a secluded track of land were there shouldn't be any people at all. Granted, the witch thought, it could be merely travelers or merchants along the road to Orlias, but they were in the region the demon indicated Bryland's daughter could be found. And seeing as how she couldn't spot any traces of other camps from her high vantage point, Morrigan though it only prudent to move in for a closer inspection.

The dragon swung her giant head around to inform The Warden that they were about to land and that it would be best if he braced himself.

"I see it, too." The Warden confirmed. "Don't land too close. We don't want to risk them seeing us."

A deep growl emanated from the beast in acknowledgment and she slowly and carefully glided down from the sky. Her powerful wings flapped furiously as she hovered just about the ground, until with delicate ease, she set herself down softly.

The Warden first urged Leo from his aching lap. Although the mabari had flown with them before, it was a strange and alarming sensation for him and he was still a bit rooted to his spot. Mabari warhounds were not meant to sail through the air and greatly disliked doing so. It required a few stout shoves on The Warden's part in order to pry the animal off the dragon's back.

Once he was finally able to get Leo to hop off, The Warden slid himself down onto the ground, nearly as grateful as the hound to have his feet back on solid ground once more. In a bright flash of light, the dragon disappeared and Morrigan stood where the great beast had just been seconds ago.

"It's getting dark. We'll have to wait until morning to go check out that camp. In the meantime, I'll start setting up our own camp." The Warden said.

"Is that wise?" Morrigan asked. "They may be using the cover of darkness to travel. Perhaps 'tis best if we were to investigate the area now, before they've a chance to escape."

"I thought about that. Those fires were burning pretty brightly for someone about to pull up camp and head out. If they were leaving, they would have snuffed the fires already. It can wait until the morning. Besides, you need to rest. I don't want to go into a dangerous situation when we're not at full strength."

"As you wish, then." the witch sighed. "We shall wait until morning."


	24. Chapter 24

**Part XXIV**

There were a great many things that Alistair felt he had messed up in his life. He tortured himself over constant regrets about things he should have said or done differently. But at least his deeds as one of the noble and honored Grey Wardens gave him some solace in the fact that he had done some good. And even though it went against his wishes, being made king had to count for something. These were things that not just anybody could have accomplished. So there was a certain amount of satisfaction with the way his life had turned out, even if it didn't get off to the best of starts.

Now, just when things seemed to be turning around for him, he'd gone and done probably the worst thing ever: He lost the demon who was not only a vital source of information, but also carried Morrigan and The Warden's unborn child. Surely this was an unforgivable sin. How would he be able to explain to his friend what he did? All he had to do was keep an eye on the creature, and he couldn't even do that properly. His only chance was to find the demon and bring her back.

The Warden and his witch wouldn't be back for more than a week. That should be plenty of time to hunt down the wayward demon and drag her back to the cottage. At least Alistair hoped it was plenty of time. If he was unable to locate the succubus, then any hopes that Alistair held of reclaiming his throne would evaporate, and more importantly, so would his friendship with The Warden.

"We've got to search for her!" Alistair exclaimed while his mind frantically tried to get a grip on the situation. "She can't have gone far. I'll start looking around the rest of the cottage while you check outside."

"Calm down. It's alright." Edalweiss replied, unusually subdued compared to the gravity of the matter. "If the demon wanted to leave, she would just go to the Fade and disappear."

"And how exactly is _that _supposed to make me feel better? If she's gone to the Fade, we'll never be able to bring her back!"

"Not so. If she tried that, Muiren could simply track her down and bring her back. He's somewhat...different...in the Fade." Edalweiss informed.

"Different? How so?"

"This plane isn't natural to him, so he's sort of limited with what he can do here. In The Fade, he's a bit...uhm...bigger. It's hard to explain." Edalwiess said, doing her best not to confuse the former king. The look on his face told her she was doing just that, however.

"Besides, Muiren can sense the demon and he says she's still around here somewhere. She's close by."

"Like that floating disaster knows what he's talking about." Alistair retorted in a huff. Even if Morrigan and The Warden had tasked Edalweiss with looking after the demon, Alistair knew that it was still his neck on the line if something were to happen. Morrigan would see to that. It was definitely in his best interest to locate the creature.

Muirghein offered a few chirps and clicks, as if to convince Alistair that he could indeed sense the demon's presence. The fish swirled through the air a couple of times and then headed for the back door and pointed at it with his fishy snout, seeming to indicate that was the direction the demon had gone.

Still mostly unconvinced, Alistair slowly stepped to the door. He glanced down at Muirghein, who gave a few more chirps and whistles of encouragement. Alistair shook his head a bit, and because he figured he might as well at least take a look, pulled the latch on the back door and slowly swung it open, completely expecting to see nothing but an empty field nestled up against the small river.

"See? I told you. There's nothing out..." Alistair's sentence was cut short when he caught the sight he least expected to see: There on the back of the property stood the demon. She was near the bank of the river with her arms folded as if she was quietly contemplating something.

Muirghein cocked his head a bit and let out a few satisfied chirps, as if to say, "You never believe me, but I was right. Don't you feel silly for making such a fuss?"

Alistair grumbled and shook his head. There was always something to make him come out looking like an ass. At least this time, however, he was happy to have been proven wrong. The terror he felt was replaced with anger and frustration. With heavy steps, he stomped out the back door to retrieve the demon and bring her back inside. He was determined to make sure she never left his sight again.

"What are you doing? Why aren't you in your room?" Alistair called out to the demon in an angry tone.

The demon turned to face him, casting a quizzical look that showed she was surprised that Alistair had become so annoyed. "I grew tired of that small space." she replied casually. "I was under the impression that I was a guest and not a prisoner."

"_Guests_ don't go running off without telling someone where they're going. For all I know, you could have been trying to escape." Alistair fumed.

"Escape?" the demon questioned with a hearty chuckle. "If I wanted to leave this place I would have already done so. Believe me, there would be precious little you or anyone else could do to prevent it. I am here because I choose to be."

"And I'm supposed to believe that, because...?"

"I don't really care what you believe." the demon snapped back, indignantly. "Given the amount of cooperation I've shown, I figured that you thick-skulled primates would have known I was serious in helping you. There's far more at stake here than just your tiny little kingdom, after all."

"Like what?" Alistair asked.

"That is none of your concern. All you need to know is that I am as committed as any of you in resolving this conflict. The sooner the better."

"Fine, then. Have it your way. But just so you know, I'm still going to keep my eye on you." Alistair replied as he turned and headed back to the cottage, leaving the demon to her thoughts, whatever they were.

* * *

The Warden was slowly roused from his deep slumber by the feeling of something pressing against his face. It was warm, moist, furry, and radiated a good amount of warmth. The grogginess quickly faded away as he realized just what the enticing object had to be. Even though his eyes were still closed, a sly grin crept across his face while his bed shorts seemed to be growing just a tad bit tighter in the front.

While it didn't happen often, Morrigan had been known to wake her warden for a bit of morning fun before. And when she did, this was one of the techniques she used in the past to gain his attention so there could be no doubt as to what was on the witch's mind. His imagination soared as he patiently waited for Morrigan to commence with her ploy. But after a few minutes, nothing happened. Usually the witch would start her gyrations as soon as she was certain he was awake and things would naturally proceed from there. This time, however, the warm wetness failed to move. It just pressed against his face and stayed put.

Something wasn't quite right, he thought. He took in a deep breath in order to ask his witch if she planned on staying planted to him like that all day when the smell hit him. It was a foul odor that took him by surprise as it permeated deep into his lungs. It took everything he had to keep from gagging on the stench. His eyes sprang open, and to his horror, the first thing he saw wasn't his witch's treasure but a large pair of brown orbs staring back down at him.

"_Leo_!" The Warden cried out as he shoved the meaty mabari off him. "Blaaaaahh!"

The shocked beast hurriedly clamored out of the tent, nearly ripping the entire cloth structure down as he barreled his way out through the thin opening. The Warden sat up and frantically wiped the slobber from his lips as hard as he could, spitting profusely in between wipes.

With the autumn chill firmly in the air at night, the hound thought to find a warmer and more comfortable spot in which to sleep. Since his usual place by the campfire had gotten cold when the fire burned down to just a few smoldering ashes, his new chosen spot turned out not only to be in the tent with The Warden and Morrigan, but lying directly across The Warden's face.

Morrigan poked her head into the tent to see her warden still attempting to smear the slime from his face. "Is there some valid reason for the great commotion so early in the morning?" she asked.

"Uhm..." The Warden thought for a minute trying to come up with a suitable explanation. "It was nothing. I just had a bad dream, that's all."

"A nightmare was it? One would think 'twas a most horrifying dream, indeed. To see the mabari bolting passed me as he did, one would get the impression he was the one who had it."

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"If you insist. 'Tis probably for the best." the witch agreed, casting a wry grin at her warden. "Since you are awake and the sun is nearly risen, it might be best to make our way to the encampment we spied earlier, lest our quarry have a chance to make their escape."

"That's probably a good idea." The Warden concurred as he jerked back the thick blanket and crawled out of the bedroll.

Once outside the tent, and after a good long apologetic rub to the mabari, who's stub of a tail wagged rapidly back and forth when he was sure his master's anger had passed, The Warden, Morrigan, and Leo set out through the thick woods in search of the camp they'd seen the night before.

The witch was extremely careful not to be noticed when she put down the previous night, and as a result, the other encampment was at least several hundred yards distant. Even though the trio only had a short amount of time before those in the camp surely packed up and prepared to leave, the witch and her warden had to approach with caution so as not to be discovered and alert whoever might be in the other camp to their presence.

Before long, the sun broke past the horizon, as it always did, casting rays of light that burst through the thick canopy above and illuminated the ground with bright splotches. While the sunlight made trekking through the underbrush easier, it also served to make The Warden and his companions more visible. As they neared the sight of the encampment, their pace slowed to almost a crawl. Not a word was said between them. Even the mabari instinctively knew the situation and remained low to the ground and silent.

The first thing The Warden noticed as he peered through the bushes and into the clearing that contained the camp was the apparent lack of activity. He counted out seven men in total, each wearing gleaming armor that bore no distinctive markings that would indicate the soldiers' allegiance or origin. Two men served as sentries on either side of the encampment while three of them stood around the central fire discussing something that The Warden was unable to clearly make out. The remaining two men stood watch over a large white tent a few yards from the fire. Whoever these men were, they were obviously in no hurry to leave.

Another odd thing The Warden noted was the fact that there were eight horses hitched to a fallen tree on the northern side of the clearing. That would seem to indicate that there was at least one more person lurking about whom The Warden failed to see. Whatever the case, he looked over and shot his witch a glance that said '_Be careful. Something isn't right here_.'

To which Morrigan replied with a look of her own that said, '_I am inclined to agree with you_.'

The Warden made a circular motion with his hand that told his witch they should swing around to the other side of the camp in order to more closely inspect the large tent that was under guard. If this is were Raythorne's men had taken Habren to, the tent was clearly the most obvious place to hold her. The Warden also considered that the tent might belong to the soldier's leader, who would naturally want some degree of separation from his men.

Together, warden, witch, and mabari crept around to the back of the campsite, always making sure to be wary of being spotted. The men talking around the fire never raised their heads or otherwise gave any clue of suspicion, continuing instead to talk about something that they considered to be very important, allowing the trio to sneak behind the large white tent without being seen.

Using a soft whisper, The Warden leaned into his witch's ear and said, "Those men certainly seem to be on about something. Do you think you can move in for a closer look?"

"'Twill take a rather small form in order to do so, however I should be able to manage it." she replied in an equally hushed voice. "The main concern is the change, itself. I must withdraw further into the wood to avoid being seen."

"Understood. Leo and I will keep an eye on things here."

Keeping her eyes on the men that were some twenty yards in front of her, Morrigan carefully backed up into the thick brush and disappeared from sight. A quick flash of light lit up the surrounding trees as the witch initiated her change into something more suitable for the task. The Warden quickly snapped his vision back to the men standing at the fire, as well as the guards at their posts, to see that Morrigan's transformation had thankfully escaped their attention.

While something inside him said that he wouldn't be leaving this place before drawing his blade, that moment had yet to arrive, and The Warden hoped to put it off for as long as possible. It wasn't that he was unsure that he, the witch, and the warhound couldn't handle the soldiers in combat; the rare opportunity to gather information about what was going on had presented itself and The Warden didn't want to lose it. Anything they could glean now could go a long way in saving them more trouble down the road. If there was anything that he had learned over the years, it was that a little patience now could serve him well at a critical point later. Knowledge about his enemy was as important and could be as effective as any blade.

From out of the bushes a tiny gray mouse scurried through the grass. The mouse stopped just long enough to glance upward at The Warden with its beady black eyes before continuing on into the camp. Unable to join his witch, The Warden and Leo were forced to wait and remain out of sight, hiding from view.

Although he knew that Morrigan was more than capable of looking after herself, that didn't do much to quell the anxiousness bubbling up inside him. He hated sending her on her own into potentially hazardous situations. He wished there was a way that he could have gone himself, but was forced to admit that her shape changing abilities gave the witch a unique advantage when it came to watching someone without attracting notice. Even knowing that, it did little to ease his unsettled stomach. The only thing he could do was sit there, wait, and hope that Morrigan finished the task as quickly as possible.

The minutes slowly ticked by while The Warden knelt in the dense brush, waiting for his witch's return. He absent-mindedly stroked the mabari with one hand and twisted a long stem of grass between his fingers in the other. His eyes stayed fixed on the soldiers surrounding the fire the entire time, looking for any indication that Morrigan's presence had be revealed. Each second that passed in which the soldiers noticed nothing brought a small but of relief, but it also worried The Warden that the longer Morrigan stayed, the greater the chance of her discovery.

Finally, the tiny mouse came hopping back through the grass toward him. An uncontrolled sigh of relief escaped his lungs as the tension eased. He raised up slightly in order to scan the area and make sure none of the men saw Morrigan. Not that any of them would have been all too concerned with a mouse, but The Warden wasn't taking any chances.

As before, the witch slipped passed him and headed deeper into the brush in order to make her transformation without risk of being spotted. Shielded by the bright sunlight, the flash from the witch's change again went unseen by the soldiers in the camp. She stepped out of the bushes and crouched down next to her warden in order to relay what she had learned.

Happy to see his witch return to him, The Warden was unable to retain his large smile. He looked at her and asked, "So what were you able to find out?"

"It seems these men have a bit of a dilemma on their hands." she said softly. "'Twas no coincidence that we found them before they were able to flee into Orlais. Apparently the empress has no desire to sully herself with the likes of kidnappers and thieves. Their passage into Orlais has been forbidden by her."

"Forbidden? Why? Is the alliance between Antiva and Orlais weakening?"

"That, I do not know. However, it does seem reasonable to assume as much. 'Tis likely that these men have been here for some time and will yet remain until given instructions to do otherwise. They think themselves safe from detection."

"So Habren is around here after all?"

"It would seem so. They gave no direct indication of having the arl's daughter, only that Orlias refused their presence, stating that the empress had no intentions of aligning herself with their plans. 'Tis quite possible that the imperial court seeks only to reap the benefits of their actions without actually becoming too involved."

"That makes sense. That way, in case these men are caught or found out, Orlais can still claim a degree of disassociation."

"I have an extreme dislike for the realm of politics, much of which makes little or no sense." Morrigan said, her brows deeply furrowed. "Would it not have been far simpler to just take the arl's daughter to Antiva?"

"Orlais is closer and easier to get to." The Warden explained. "Besides, I'm sure Raythorne wanted the Orlisians to share some of the burden. Apparently, the Orlisians think they're too good to get their hands dirty in this mess. Bringing Habren back to her father would probably be the dagger in the heart of this entire deal. Although, we'd still be left with the problem of Alistair."

"One task at a time, my love." the witch cautioned. "We shall deal with Raythorne and his lackeys soon enough. For now, let us focus on what lies before us. Do you have any sort of plan?"

"Actually, I do." The Warden confirmed.

"That being what, exactly?"

"You chase those men away and I'll nab Habren and bring her back to our camp."

The witch let out a deep sigh. "I should have known 'tis I who is to do the bulk of the work." she grumbled.

"It won't be bad. Besides, I'm sure you're just dying to take out your aggressions on somebody." The Warden teased, shooting his witch a grin.

"Save your humor. Now is neither the time nor the place."

"You're so sexy when you're serious."

Morrigan moaned and rolled her eyes. "Impossible man." she huffed.

Once more, the witch prepared herself to transform. Given the circumstances, her dragon-form would have been of little use, as the clearing was far too crowded for her to be able to move freely and she would serve to act as little more than a large target. While she could have chosen to take the shape of a bear, that too wouldn't have sufficed. The men would be startled at first, but Morrigan feared there were enough men that they would have time to gather themselves and regroup, turning the tables on her. What was needed was something that would haunt these men for a long time, something they had only seen in their darkest nightmares.

This time the witch made no attempts to conceal herself as she changed right where she stood. The bright flash caught the attention of all the men in the camp and their focus quickly snapped to see an enormous spider scrambling right toward them. As predicted, fear gripped the men and they became rooted to their spots, unable to react to the menacing creature that was racing at them.

As Morrigan closed in on the men surrounding the fire, they quickly broke into a run, yelling out in terror as they disappeared into the forest. The sentries at either end soon followed suit, fleeing off into the distance with their comrades. The two remaining guards by the tent nervously stood their ground, desperately praying that the spider wouldn't notice them and instead choose to follow the others into the trees. To their horror, though, the men saw the creature swing around and lunge right at them. First one, then the other, bolted off in opposite directions, screaming loudly as they did, leaving Morrigan alone in the camp.

The witch figured it was probably best to ensure the men stayed rattled for as long as possible and chased after them, diving into the thick vegetation. The Warden could clearly hear the frightened cries of the men growing fainter while Morrigan herded them away from the camp. Nobody could strike terror in the heart of a man quite like his witch could, he thought.

The Warden and Leo jumped from the bushes and quickly ran up to the back of the tent, just in case there was one or more guards remaining inside that he hadn't seen. With a swift tug, he unsheathed his blade and cut a slit through the soft fabric big enough for both him and the mabari to climb through. He channeled all the strength his legs could muster and dove through the hole and into the tent. With an acrobatic roll, he flipped his body into an attack position, steadying his blade in front of him as his eyes scanned for would-be attackers. They saw none. The only thing he saw was a young, brown-haired woman who looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. Her hands and feet were bound and a large rag had been tied around her head, gagging her mouth.

The Warden reached out and pulled the rag down, freeing the girl's mouth and letting her speak.

"It's about time you showed up." she hissed in an annoyed tone. "Don't just stand there with that stupid look on your face. Unite me you idiot!"


	25. Chapter 25

**Part XXV**

It was really shaping up to be a rather lovely day, Fergus thought. Autumn was starting to be felt and the coolness was a much needed reprieve from the heat of summer. Only a few white billowy clouds hung in the sky that he and Seth spent some time imagining to be shapes of various fantastic monsters and other mysterious creatures. All was quiet down in the village for a change and to top it all off, his meeting with Bryland had gone better than he could have hoped.

The arl arrived late the previous evening and the teyrn was unable to meet with him until the morning, but when they did at last get a chance to speak, it had been fruitful. The arl was more than willing to share everything he knew about what Raythorne and Marlori were planning. Most of what the arl had to say, Fergus was already aware of. But Bryland was able to help put the missing pieces into place to paint a much clearer picture.

Up until now, Fergus had suspected that Anora had made a deal with Marlori and that somehow the Orlisians were involved. What he didn't know was why. Bryland explained in great detail about the missing gaps. Everything was centered around the trade routes, he informed. At long last, all of it began to make sense. Antiva and Orlais wanted to build a joint economic empire, the heart of which being centered in Denerim. But without gaining control of western Ferelden, all of that was moot. The trade goods still couldn't be shipped across the Frostback Mountains and be sent or received if Fergus still retained control of the Highever Teyrnir.

It was a grand scheme, indeed. One that took careful planning a preparation in order to execute. If not for Bryland having a change of heart, Fergus and his brother might have remained in the dark without vital information until it was too late to stop it. Fergus still worried that the balance may have been tipped too far by this point to do any real good. However, at least he could hold out against the Orlisians as long as possible. Thanks to Arl Bryland, that was even longer now that he knew what was going on.

Then, as things always seem to do in Ferelden, the wonderful day turned on its head and became a nightmare. It seems that the arl wasn't nearly as careful as he thought he was in hiding his intentions from his benefactors, for upon returning to his quarters later that afternoon, he was met with an assassin's blade. It was plain that word of Bryland's intent to switch sides had made it all the way to Raythorne, and possibly even Marlori, and the Crows were quickly dispatched to correct the problem.

Fergus did his best to track down the assassin, but to no avail. The culprit was able to disguise himself as one of the many castle servants and vanished just as quickly as he appeared. The arl's blood spilled freely in the castle corridors, staining the elegant floor a deep red. Fergus knelt over the wounded man, shouting for help. But the only person who could have any chance with such a horrific gash was hundreds of miles to the west: Morrigan. With the last bit of life he had remaining, Bryland pulled Fergus down closer to him and uttered his final words.

"Cuth...Cuthbert..." he gasped, "It falls on him now...to do...what I was...tasked with."

"Save your breath, Leonas. Help is coming." Fergus said, offering what reassurance he could even though both men knew the arl was beyond saving.

"No...li...listen to me. Marlori is..is prepared. They have ano...another...just...just in case."

"You're not making any sense. Another what?" Fergus asked, desperately trying to keep the arl in the world of the living long enough so he could learn the answer. "Leonas! Another what?"

"T...tell Habren...Tell her...I'm sorry..." where the last words the arl spoke before the life left his body and he slumped in Fergus' arms.

Fergus gently laid Bryland against the cold stone floor and closed his eyes. There was a false peace etched into the man's face the belied the circumstances of his death. It was as if the strain of recent weeks had become so great that death had become his only escape. But even though the arl had been released from his torment, Fergus was well aware of the damaging effects Bryland's death would have to their cause.

Without Bryland, they would be essentially have to start over again. Marlori and Raythorne's plan wouldn't work unless western Ferelden came under the grasp of Orlais, and now the responsibility for accomplishing that would fall on the shoulders of Lord Cuthbert, who had been one of Bryland's closest associates. Cuthert's standing among the nobility, however, wasn't nearly what Bryland's had been. That would make the job of obtaining the Highever Teyrnir that much harder for him. There was still a possibility that the teyrn's sway with the other lords would be sufficient to avert the Antivan's plans no matter how hard Anora pressed the matter.

That still didn't leave much time to act, though. Fergus knew that Cuthbert had probably already been informed of his new standing. It would take no more than a week at best for Anora to install Cuthbert as the new Arl of South Reach, which might give Cuthbert the political footing he needed to lead the charge against Fergus. The best chance the teyrn had was to file a petition insisting that it be Habren, and not Cuthbert, who should rightfully assume charge of the South Reach bannorn. Even if the petition failed, it would serve to buy them precious time. If they drew this whole ordeal out long enough, Fergus thought, the Antivans and Orlisians might tire of the struggle, and of one another, and simply give up. Barring any miracles, that was the best chance they had.

* * *

The cottage had been mostly filled with an eerie and awkward silence since The Warden and his witch departed to rescue Habren. Under the circumstances, that could be reasonable, considering that both Alistair and Edalweiss had been playing nurse-maid to a desire demon. Ironically, however, it was the demon who chose to do most of the talking. The creature would make observations about humans and their silly habits, or she would ask why one thing was important and another not. Edalweiss and Alistair rarely said at word at all; to the demon or to each other. It was almost like they were both afraid something could happen if they spoke.

Alistair refrained from talking out of a lack of desire to feel the small woman's sharp kick against his shin again. He could hardly say a single word or state a simple opinion without feeling the now familiar sting against his bruised shin. At least that's what he told himself. In truth, he'd become fascinated by the young woman, who, for whatever reason, had not only chosen to help him when she didn't even know him, but stayed around for all the time after.

Edalwiess' reasons from not wanting to talk were less obvious. She was indeed a curious creature, Alistair thought, fiery and temperamental one instant, and then sweet and kind the next. He was having an impossible time trying to figure her out. It was something he couldn't wrap his mind around. And even though he tried to force the issue from his head, he found himself always returning to the subject.

As was normally the case over the past two days, Alistair found Edalweiss in the kitchen cleaning up another rather large mess she made when she baked several treats for herself and Muirghein. The counter and floor were covered in flour and scattered crumbs from the pies that she and the fish had consumed. Edalweiss clothing was speckled with flour and covered in stains from the various fruit fillings she concocted. As she worked, her forehead and brow became dampened by many tiny beads of sweat and a few loose strands of her reddish-brown hair hung over her face, which she unconsciously brushed aside periodically.

Alistair stood there quietly for a few minutes, just watching the small woman clean up her mess while the fish floated around offering his help, which was generally nothing more than a few chirps to indicate that she had missed a spot. After watching the small woman for a bit, the rumbling in his belly reminded Alistair of why he'd come into the kitchen in the first place.

"I don't suppose you saved anything for me, did you?" he asked, startling Edalweiss a bit who was too wrapped up in what she was doing to see him standing there.

"You shouldn't spy on people. It's not very nice." she quipped in return.

"I wasn't _spying._" Alistair retorted, defending himself. "I was was just standing here waiting for you to get finished, that's all."

"Where I come from, we call that spying." Edalweiss quickly shot back.

"Maker's breath!" Alistair huffed, stepping closer to the small woman until he stood directly in front of her. "I just wanted something to eat. Where's the crime in that?"

"Fine! If that's really all you wanted, there's one pie left that you can have all to yourself." Edalweiss said, backing away from his advance and pointing to the lone misshapen and burned object that rested on the counter.

"You expect me to eat that? Are you trying to poison me?" Alistair asked as he continued to back Edalweiss up against the wall.

"There's nothing wrong with it. Me and Muiren just ate two of them by ourselves and you don't see anything happening to us." she replied, the tone of her voice becoming a bit unsteady. "But then again, I'm not sure about you. Maybe pies _are_ poisonous to a jerkface like you."

Alistair slammed his hand against the wall and leaned in closer, locking Edalweiss in place and trapping her while he fixed his steely gaze down at her small frame. "It never stops with you, does it? You always have some sort of smart remark to make."

"At...at least I can be smart."

"See? That's exactly what I'm talking about. You say that I'm mean to you, yet all you ever do is insult me." Alistair rebuffed, pounding his hand against the wall for good measure. "None of it makes any sense whatsoever." he grumbled under his breath.

"What doesn't make any sense?"

"Did I say that out loud? That's not what I meant. What I meant to say was...was..."

"Just say it, already."

Alistair seemed to be struggling with the idea of telling Edalwiess exactly what he was trying to say. On one hand, she was never one for showing any sort of understanding toward him, but on the other, he felt as though the small woman exerted some form of control over him that he was unable to explain. It was twisting his head all up in knots and driving him completely insane. After taking a bit to think on the matter, he found the nerve to say what he'd by dying to say for a long time and reluctantly began to speak. "No matter how infuriated I get with you, I can't seem to stop thinking about you. All day you control my thoughts like you've cast some spell on me. No matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to be able to get you out of my head." he confessed.

"Alistair...I..." Edalwiess stammered, too shocked by the revelation to offer a reply.

"I know what you're thinking. Your thinking that I'm a fool and your probably right. But I can't help it, and at this point I'm not sure if I even want to try anymore."

His head leaned down, closing in on the young woman and cutting her off with no escape. "Damn it all." he muttered, then moved in for the kill.

"Please, don't." she pleaded, but it was too late. His lips pressed against hers, giving a deep kiss that said all the things his words could not.

She pulled away from him, pressing her back against the wall as tight as she could in order to create as much distance between herself and Alistair as she could. Still, though, it was not enough. The frightened look on her face told the former king that he had made a terrible mistake. Without saying a word, Edalweiss ducked under his arm and ran off to the main bedchamber, slamming the door behind her and locking it tight.

"Eda, wait!" Alistair called out as he began to give chase, only to have his path blocked by Muirghein, who appeared less than amused at Alistair for having upset Edalweiss in such a fashion.

"I wasn't trying to hurt her." Alistair explained in an attempt to defend himself, but the fish was apparently having none of it as he angrily chirped and hissed at the former king.

When Muirghein was satisfied that Alistair had gotten the message, he indignantly swished around in the air and darted for the room Edalwiess had locked herself inside, passing straight through the thick wooden door as if it wasn't even there.

"Damn!" Alistair fumed, cursing his own stupidity.

* * *

"What are you doing?" the girl asked as The Warden scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

"I've got to get you out of here. Those men won't be gone for long so that doesn't give me much time." he replied, ducking out the thin slit in the back of the tent he had carved earlier.

Habren began banging against his back his her bound fists, screaming, "put me down this instant you miserable peasant!"

Ignoring her command, The Warden bolted from the campsite and headed off into the thick underbrush toward his and the witch's camp, with Leo following just behind. In the distance, he could hear the shouts of the men that told him the shock and fear of being attacked by Morrigan in her spider-form was starting to pass and they were beginning to regroup. He had to fight the urge to turn around and assist his witch with every fiber of his being, forcing himself to trust the fact that Morrigan was quite capable of taking care of herself. Still, he kept his ears open to listen for any cries for assistance she might make as he trudged on through the forest, all while Habren beat her fists against his back and hurled insult after insult at him.

Finally he had enough. The Warden stopped in his tracks, saying, "Unless you want those men to know you've been taken, I highly suggest you be quiet."

"I won't have some lowly commoner tell me what to do!" Habren hissed. "When my father hears how you've treated me he'll..."

"Look..."The Warden interrupted, "I don't care what you tell your father, but if you don't shut your mouth and stop talking this instant, I'll take you back, put you where I found you, and leave you there. Am I clear?"

"I have _never_ been spoken to in such a manner!"

"Now you can't say that. So unless you want those men to find us, do us both a favor and close your mouth."

"I think I would have been better off with those men." Habren huffed.

"I can always put you back where I found you. But considering you were bound and gagged, I would bet those men didn't like your attitude any better."

The girl said nothing in return, but The Warden could feel the angry glare even though he couldn't see it. Even though she didn't recognize who he was, The Warden had known Habren since she was a small girl, although he'd only met her a few times; the last of which being in Denerim during the Blight. To his recollection, she'd always been a bit of a spoiled brat. The Warden didn't really hold it against her, though, since her mother died when she was very young and with her father being away handling business of the bannorn, she was left to be raised mostly by the castle servants.

Overhead, The Warden glanced up to see the form of a small sparrow darting past him as it streaked for the other camp which was still more than a hundred yards away. He was glad to confirm that his witch had eluded her pursuers but was also aware that Raythorne's men would discover that Habren was missing and be finding their way to his and the witch's camp soon enough. While he didn't figure any of them to be expert trackers, neither had he bothered to conceal his path as he quickly stomped through the forest. Even a blind person could have known which direction he'd gone. There wasn't going to be any way around it; he and Morrigan would have to fight their way out.

The Warden and his witch could attempt to pack up their things and leave as quickly as they could, but he doubted that there would be sufficient time to do so before the soldiers had discovered them. Their best course of action would be to hide Habren away somewhere and make ready for the inevitable conflict. At least that way, he could ensure that he and the witch would have the most advantageous position possible. Better to fight the men head-on than to constantly have them nipping at their heels all the way back to Highever.

Stepping into the small clearing, The Warden was happy to see that Morrigan was once again thinking the same thing that he was as she readied herself for battle. The witch had already pulled her custom drakescale armor over her head and was fastening a thick belt which was threaded through a long sheath containing her magical blade. The Warden always found something profoundly appealing about Morrigan when she put on her fighting attire, but as much as he wanted to stop and stare, he had to get ready himself.

"I see that you were successful in locating the arl's daughter." Morrigan noted as she finished her preparations.

The Warden nodded affirmative as he bent down to lower the girl from over his shoulder. Being in a bit of a rush, he was less than delicate with her and she plopped unceremoniously onto her backside. Naturally, Habren was none too pleased about it.

"You stupid moron!" she yelled. "You call this a 'rescue'? When my father gets done with you, there won't be anything left of your miserable hide!"

"The girl is just as ill-mannered as I recall." Morrigan said. "Perhaps it would have been best to leave her where she was and simply tell the arl some sad tale of his daughter's demise."

"You bitch! You wouldn't dare!" Habren shouted back.

The short hairs on the back of Leo's neck began to raise and a he gave a low growl, indicating that he clearly did not approve of the girl's tone. Morrigan reached over and gave a few good pats on his head with a satisfied smile. The mabari's demeanor clearly unsettled Habren and she fixed her eyes on the beast, cautiously observing him.

The Warden had had his fill and was determined to shut the girl's mouth once and for all. "Hey!" he cried. "I don't know who the hell you think you are but nobody talks to her that way, especially not you. If I have to tell you one more time to close your mouth, I swear I'll tie your jaw shut and keep it that way until we get back to Highever. The only thing I want to hear from you right now is 'I'm sorry.' Do you understand?"

"I'll not be spoken to this way by some lowly peasant!" Habren fumed.

"That does it!" The Warden fumed and he stomped over to one of his packs and began searching through it. "Morrigan, where's that rope we had last night?" he asked.

"'Tis somewhere amongst your belongings." the witch replied. "As haphazardly as you stow your gear, 'tis no small wonder that you can find anything at all."

It was Habren's intention to call this man's bluff. There was no possible way he would ever dare to treat a member of the Bryland house so callously. She was sure that she would be able to convince this loathsome man and his wench that they were to ones making the grave mistake and had better start treating her with the dignity her station deserved. Then, to her shock, she watched as he found the length of rope he was searching for and withdrew it from the pack.

"Found it!" he exclaimed almost gleefully as he turned back towards the girl, who now bore a look that was far less certain than it had been mere seconds before.

"You don't have to do this." she begged while she tried to inch herself back away from his approach. "Please. I'll be good, I promise. I won't say anything else."

Still The Warden came closer, measuring out the rope in his hands as if to find the perfect amount needed to do the job properly.

The sight was more than Habren could take, and she relented. "Alright, alright!" she yelled nervously. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things. Please don't use that thing on me."

Having heard what he was waiting for, The Warden stopped and dropped the rope on the ground at his side. "That's better." he said, nodding.

"'Tis all well and good, my love. However, I fear that your actions have only served to draw Raythorne's men to our location. They shall be upon us very soon." the witch remarked knowingly as she gestured back toward the forest.

"Then we better be ready for them." The Warden replied as he drew his blade and assumed a fighting stance.

All of them intently watched the edge of the treeline, scanning for the slightest movement. After a few tense moments, the sound of leaves and twigs crunching under heavily armored boots could plainly be heard. Shortly after, the first of the men burst into the clearing, closely followed by his companions.

The lead man pointed his sharp sword at the group and shouted, "there they are! And they have the girl! Kill them quickly and bring that spoiled wench back to her tent!"

The other soldiers charged out of the bushes and straight at The Warden, Morrigan, and the mabari. Instinctively, the three of them formed into a fighting circle, with their backs facing on another. Habren sat in the center, protected by the others.

The group of soldiers quickly swarmed around The Warden's party, encircling them with their weapons drawn and eager to strike. When all the men were in position, they lunged in to attack without hesitation. All of them confident that these interlopers would easily be dispatched and that they would soon be on their way back to their own camp. Much to their surprise, however, they immediately found out that The Warden and his allies were a much more resilient foe that they anticipated.

Two of the men were cut down in an instant, and a third was mauled by the mabari. From her protected spot in the middle, all Habren could do was cringe and scream as those around her fought back the attackers. She watched as the witch formed a ball of fire in her palm and then flung it at the solider closest to her; the blast causing the man to sail through the air and his lifeless body crashed against the ground several yards away.

The Warden was quick to notice that, while these men were no match for him and his witch, they were still more highly trained than mere average henchmen. They knew what they were doing with the blades they wielded and The Warden had to make sure he was especially careful not to let one of their razor-sharp edges come too close.

The clanking of metal-on-metal rang throughout the clearing as the two groups fought one another for possession of the girl. But the outcome was never really in doubt. And before long, The Warden and his witch were able to drive the two remaining soldiers off, sending them scampering back into the woods to lick their wounds.

After the men had gone, The Warden propped himself against his sword, panting and out of breath. Beads of sweat rolled down into his eyes while he rubbed his aching shoulder, wiggling it around as he did. "I'm getting too old for this shit." he mumbled.

"It would seem that your lack of activity has left you somewhat out of shape. Perhaps it might be wise if I were to devise some exercises for you." Morrigan teased with a wry grin. Making matters worse was the fact that the witch seemed to look just as refreshed as always.

"What are you talking about? I'm in the best shape of my life." he retorted as he stood up straight, accentuating the move with a slight groan.

"Far be it from me to argue with the Great Grey Warden." Morrigan said with a slight chuckle. "Still, our task is far from finished. We've yet to make the trip back to Highever."

"I know what you mean." The Warden confirmed. "Those men will more than likely try to follow us and swipe Habren at the first chance they get."

"'Tis true..." the witch agreed. "However, I was referring to the girl. The greatest challenge by far will be to make it back without having strangled her, myself."


	26. Chapter 26

**Part XXVI**

Two days. That's how long it had been since Edalweiss locked herself inside the room. Two long and awkward days of silence and uncomfortable uncertainty. It's not as though she never came out at all. But she did so only when she absolutely had to. The young woman would grab herself a quick bite to eat or heed nature's call as quickly as possible. Only doing so, however, when Muirghein deemed the coast was clear and it was safe to proceed. Edalweiss would rush out of the room, take care of what she needed to, then hurry back inside and lock the stout door behind her. Alistair couldn't tell if she was angry with him or just embarrassed. Whatever the case, he knew that she was definitely avoiding him like he was some sort of disease.

He paced around the cottage like an expectant father. At the slightest sound he would quickly snap his attention to the door she hid herself behind in hopes that it might be her and that she would want to talk. But the door never opened and she never came out to talk to him. As if that wasn't bad enough, the demoness took it upon herself to offer little quips and insights that Alistair was sure were only meant to torment him further.

"How fickle you humans are." the demon would say to him. "She is barely half your size and yet you let her wrap you around her finger. It makes no sense at all."

"I don't really understand it, either." Alistair said in reply, too angry with himself to even bother trying to argue with the creature.

"That is why you are such easy prey for me and others like me. You would do almost anything in order to get some pretty thing to bat her eyelashes at you just once."

"Sometimes it's best not to try to do anything at all. Sometimes it's best just to leave things as they are." Alistair noted, sorely wishing he had heeded his own words.

"But then, what fun would that be, hmm?" the succubus said, teasing him.

The only source of relief Alistair found was in hoping The Warden returned soon and they could get on with the task of setting everything straight. Then, at least, he could go back to his royal palace in Denerim and hide his face from the rest of the world. There, within the stone walls of the palace, he could bury himself in the duties of being king once more and never have to think about his humiliating experience ever again.

As if things weren't already bad enough, the sound of horses and men just beyond the front door indicated there were visitors. That was the last thing Alistair felt he needed. And even worse, when he pulled back the draperies on the window in order to peek outside, he saw several men wearing bright metal armor that glistened under in the light of the sun. It was the teyrn and several of his men. Alistair figured The Warden had probably asked his brother to check in on he and Edalweiss while they were away.

It's not that he had anything against Fergus. The teyrn reminded Alistair of The Warden more than a little. They were both quite similar, although neither man would admit or accept such a statement was fact. But now was not the best time for a visit. Considering that Fergus had openly stated his attraction for Edalweiss, Alistair thought it might be a bit awkward if the teyrn were to hear about what happened. It was something Alistair strongly preferred to avoid, but given how things normally play out, it would only stand to reason that it was something he would have to endure.

Fergus and his men dismounted their steeds and strolled toward the door, which the teyrn knocked on a few times. Alistair briefly debated on even answering the door, but knew there was no point in dodging Fergus since the teyrn was already aware he and Edalweiss were staying at the cottage.

When Alistair did at last open the door, he was greeted by a stern and somber look on Fergus' face that informed him this was clearly more than just a social call. The teyrn bore the look of a man who was about to deliver some very bad news.

"It's about time you opened the door." Fergus said. "I was about to have one of my men go around to the windows to see if you were still here."

Alistair rubbed his chin with his hand, trying to look as innocent as he could. "Sorry about that." he said. "I was in the back and didn't hear you knocking at first."

"May I come in?"

"Yes, of course."

The teyrn gestured to his men for them to remain outside while he and Alistair talked. The captain nodded his understanding of the order and smartly swung around, standing at attention and guarding the door.

"I suppose Dwemer had you come by to check to make sure Eda and I hadn't destroyed the place." Alistair said as he and Fergus walked the short distance to the den.

The teyrn chuckled a bit and shook his head. "No." he replied. "Actually he never mentioned anything about it. I sincerely wish that were my reason for being here, though."

"If that's not it, then why are you here?" Alistair asked, starting to get a bit worried at the seriousness in Fergus' tone.

"I'm afraid I have some bed news: Arl Bryland's been assassinated."

A cold chill ran down Alistair's back when he heard the words. Immediately he knew the ramifications and what it meant for his cause. He spoke the only three words that kept running through his mind. "What? When? How?"

"It happened two days ago at the castle." Fergus informed. "We think it was a member of the Crows who was able to sneak past the castle guards disguised as one of the servants."

"So even if Dwemer manages to rescue Habren, it'll be for nothing. Without Bryland, we won't have any hard evidence we can use against Anora. Once again, Raythorne seems to be one step ahead of us."

"Not necessarily. There's still Habren. Right now I have couriers riding out to most of the other lords imploring them to recognize Habren's claim as the rightful heir to the South Reach arling."

"What good will that do? Even if Dwemer and Morrigan do manage to find her and bring her back, that's still no guarantee that she'll side with us. Especially if she's still the spoiled brat she used to be. She might decide that it's your fault her father was killed and help Raythorne and Anora out of spite."

"That may very well be. But if Raythorne has his way, Cuthbert will be made the new Arl. So at the very least it'll buy us some time if we challenge Cuthbert's legitimacy."

"Time to do what?"

"That part I don't know, yet. But I'm sure I'll think of something."

"Well, whatever it turns out to be, you better think of it quickly. We're running out of options."

"Options for what?" a voice asked from behind them.

Both men turned around to see Edalweiss standing there in the doorway. Instantly a broad smile appeared on Fergus' face, while Alistair's look suddenly became nervous and uncertain.

"It's nothing." Alistair said. "I'll tell you about about it later."

"Oh, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" the small woman asked. "I could come back later, when you have a free moment."

"No, no. Not at all." Fergus replied robustly, gesturing for Edalweiss to join them. "What can we do for you?"

"I just wanted to talk...to Alistair." she answered, both her arms folded in front of her and her head hanging somberly towards the floor. "If that's alright, I mean."

Fergus smile was replaced with a clear expression of disappointment. "Oh." he muttered, as if someone had let all the air out of him. "Well, I need to be getting back to the castle, anyway. That nephew of mine will be waking from his nap at any time and he'll be wondering where I've gone off to."

"Thanks for stopping by to tell me that. If anything else comes up, let me know as soon as you can." Alistair replied.

"Will do." Fergus confirmed, giving a nod and a wave, trying his best to seem like he wasn't disappointed, but overdoing it.

After the teyrn and his men had gone, Alistair and Edalwiess stood alone in the den confronting an unsettling awkward silence. The discomfort was so apparent that it was almost as if it were an entity all in itself. And even though neither of them really wanted to talk about what happened, they both knew that there was probably no way around it. Alistair had kissed her: out of the blue and without reason. And in doing so, he managed to change the entire dynamic of their relationship.

There was a certain degree of comfort before. Both of them knew how the game worked and what was expected of them. Theirs might have been a fiery relationship, but it was always done with a bit of separation between them. Now Alistair had broken that when he brazenly crossed into her space. Without bothering to ask what she thought about it, he'd changed the rules of the game. They could both pretend it never happened, but that alone would never be enough. From here on out, things would be very different for them. Whether that was a good or bad thing was yet to be revealed.

Whatever the case, Alistair was sure that Eda was none too happy about what he did. He braced himself for the inevitable barrage of words he'd come to expect, and just this once, he couldn't really blame her if she threw in a couple of well-placed kicks to his shins for good measure. But much to his surprise, that's not at all what the small woman did.

At first, Edalweiss said nothing. Instead, she held out her hand to him, peering up through her closed eyes. And even though she never once opened them, Alistair could feel her staring straight into his soul. It made him feel dirty and ashamed for what he did. But still she stood there silently, holding out her hand, apparently waiting for him to do something. Although what that was, he didn't know.

Not having a clue as to what else to do, Alistair slowly reached out and slid his hand into hers. She smiled slightly as she placed her other hand on top. He could feel the warmth of her delicate fingers radiate through his skin. And as much as he wanted to enjoy the feeling, he refused to allow himself the privilege. He would retain control over himself no matter what it took. This time he was determined not to allow his emotions to get the better of him.

"Alistair..." Edalweiss finally said, her tone soft and inviting; almost motherly, "we need to talk about what happened the other day."

"I was afraid you were going to say that." Alistair replied uncomfortably. "Listen, Eda, I'm sorry, alright? I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was all the stress or maybe I've just lost my mind. Whatever it was, it doesn't matter. All I can say is that it won't ever happen again. You have my word."

"You don't have to apologize for anything. I just never had any idea you felt that way."

"Neither did I, apparently."

"As much as I hate to admit this, you are a dear friend to me. I can't honestly say that about many people. When you did that...kissed me, I mean, it was something I would have never thought you'd do." she said while her small hand gently caressed his. "You caught me off guard."

"I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable." he replied somberly, still trying to avoid looking directly at her, choosing to stare down at their entwined hands.

"I know you didn't. And really, that's not the problem, or at least not the biggest one."

"I'm not sure I follow you. If you didn't get uncomfortable when I kissed you, why did you run off and lock yourself inside the room like that?"

Edalweiss paused briefly before answering, as if she was unsure what to say next or how to accurately describe what she was thinking. "It's...complicated." she said. "I've never been especially close to anyone before, other than my family. When you did what you did, I just sort of panicked."

She took her hand and placed it against his chin, forcing him to look directly at her. "You know that my life hasn't been easy. Ever since the accident, people usually either look at me with pity or cringe in horror. I've been called so many names that it's hard to remember them all: witch, demon, monster. But none of them are so bad as simply being referred to as 'that poor girl'. I never wanted anyone to be afraid of me, but I also don't want them to feel sorry for me, either."

"I don't feel sorry for you, Eda." Alistair remarked. "I mean, we certainly didn't meet under the best circumstances, but all I've ever seen was a vibrant, independent, and beautiful woman."

"Even when I was calling you names and kicking you?" Edalweiss giggled when she asked.

"Strangely, yes." he answered confidently and without hesitation. "But the question still remains: where does this leave us? I'd still very much like for us to be friends. I just hope I haven't loused that up too badly."

Edalweiss cocked her head to the side and cast a wry smile up at him. "I'd like that very much, too." she replied. "Who knows? Maybe with a little time we might even become more than friends."

"Seriously?" Alistair gasped. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

"I don't know yet. Lets take things as they come and see where it goes. It if happens naturally, then who am I to argue?"

* * *

"How you can possibly not like sausage, I'll never know." The Warden said in a very exasperated tone.

The witch simply rolled her eyes and let out a long sigh. "Are we having this conversation yet again?" she groaned. "You are aware of my reasoning. I see little point in going over things we've already discussed thoroughly in the past."

"But not liking sausage...That's almost the same as not liking bacon."

"'Tis nothing of the sort." Morrigan disagreed. "They are entirely different. They do not even remotely resemble one another."

"How do you even know? When was the last time you even tried it? You eat bacon as if you were afraid it was going to disappear from the face of the Earth, but you won't even give sausage a sniff."

"As I have said numerous times before, 'tis because I was made to eat the horrid substance when I was a young girl. I sincerely doubt the nauseating concoction you are referring to has changed any in that time."

From just behind the pair, a loud scream erupted, causing the two to swing their heads around smartly, locating the source of the noise. Habren walked a few paces behind The Warden and Morrigan as the three of them made their way back east to Highever. Of course, if Morrigan had used her dragon-form, all of them would have already been quickly transported back to their destination. However, Habren threw such a complete fit over the very notion of climbing aboard a dragon's back and soaring thousands of feet into the air that the matter was dropped and the party chose to instead travel by more conventional means just to silence the girl. Although the experience did provide the arl's daughter with the unique benefit of hearing The Warden and his witch's conversations as they walked.

"Do you two ever stop bickering?" Habren asked loudly. "All you've done for the past two days is argue and squabble. I swear if I have to listen to any more of it, my head will explode! You two act as though you were married or something."

"We _are_ married." The Warden replied, chuckling at the young girl's distress.

"Well then, that explains a great deal."

"You've still no idea who it was that rescued you from your captors, do you?" Morrigan questioned.

"Sure I do. I was 'rescued', and I use the term loosely, by some broken down old man and his _somewhat_ mysterious woman." Habren responded, trying her best to make it perfectly clear, that even though the pair had saved her from the clutches of Raythorne's henchmen, she was still too far above them on the social ladder to offer anything other than disdain. She believed it was their duty as commoners to come to the aid of any highborn person who required it and that it was they who should be grateful for the chance to be in her presence.

"I might say that I was surprised by your answer, considering that you are far too young and have done nothing of importance or significance in your life to justify any sort of false sense righteousness that you may have. Having been forced to deal with your childish demeanor, however, I am aware 'tis simply because you lack any form of eloquence or grace. You expect everything yet contribute nothing. You are a burden to all those around you." Morrigan retorted calmly. "Your father must be ever so proud of his darling little girl."

"How dare you speak to me like that!" Habren fumed. The girl was so visibly upset by the witch's remark that her deeply reddening face was apparent to both Morrigan and her warden. Small veins started to make themselves visible in her neck and near the edges of her forehead.

Habren turned her attention to The Warden. "Are you just going to let her talk to me like that?"

"Yes. Yes I am." was all he replied.

"You filthy peasants! When we get to Highever, I will make sure that both of you learn your place! My father is good friends with Teyrn Fergus. I will see you two dangling from a hangman's noose."

"I don't know." The Warden said thoughtfully while he stroked his beard. "What do you think Morrigan? Should we let her tell Fergus and have all the fun?"

"Knowing you as I do, I feel you would derive far more pleasure telling your brother the entire tale yourself. I've no doubt that the two of you will laugh yourselves silly over the matter." Morrigan replied.

"Your brother?" Hanbren asked, stunned.

"Yes, Fergus is my brother." The Warden answered.

"That can't be. If you were the teyrn's brother, that would make you..."

"Make me what?"

"You would have to be The Grey Warden. But that's not possible. You don't look anything like him."

"Why don't you think I look anything like him?"

"I've heard all the stories. Everyone has." Habren explained. "The Grey Warden is much taller than you with eyes that burn of fire. He can move mountains with the power of his will alone. Everywhere he goes, he's followed by legions of his followers. He wears armor made of pure solid gold that's encrusted with rubies and sapphires. And with him at all times is his noble steed. A massive white horse named Leo. In case you haven't noticed, you don't look anything like that."

"No, I don't guess I do." The Warden said, chuckling just a bit.

"Then we'll have no more talk of that nonsense. You have enough to worry about as it is. I doubt you'd like for the teyrn to hear of your impersonating a noble as well."

As the sun set on another day, The Warden searched for a suitable place for he and his companions to bed down for the night. He chose a small secluded spot just off the main road where he could readily see if anyone was approaching, but hidden enough that any such travelers would have a hard time seeing him in return.

Morrigan prepared the fire while her warden erected their tent. Unfortunately, neither of them had predicted that they would be slowly walking back to Highever rather than flying and had neglected to bring any other forms of comfort and shelter with them. As a result, The Warden had to fashion together a makeshift lean-to and do what he could to provide bedding for the arl's daughter. It wasn't much, and Habren fussed about the inadequacies of the structure at great length before finally agreeing to use it for the night. As darkness swallowed the area within it's blackened maw and the only light available came from the fire and the thousands of twinkling specks in the sky, all of them were at last able to retire to the comfort of their beds in order to get some much-needed rest.

Highever was still more than two days away and they still had a great deal of ground to cover. But unknown to any of them, the situation had drastically changed since they were last at the castle. Arl Bryland had been the victim of an intimate meeting with an assassin's blade and any leverage gained from Habren's rescue had been quickly lost. It was becoming quite clear that Raythorne was a very thorough man. He apparently had a contingency plan for everything. It was plain to see why Marlori placed so much trust in him.

Far away from the sleepy hills just east of the Frostback Mountains, in Castle Cousland, Fergus wondered and worried if everything he'd done had been enough. Now that Bryland was dead, he was sure that Marlori and Anora would press their plan to shift the balance in Highever. He prayed that The Warden would return quickly with Habren so that she could point out her kidnappers and bring them out form the shadows and into the light at last. That, combined with her lineage, should provide enough for the other Ferelden lords to agree to her becoming the new charge over South Reach. But that sort of political maneuvering was going to take time; time that the teyrn feared they didn't have.

"Tell me, my love, after we return to Highever, then what? Have you a plan?" Morrigan asked her husband as she climbed under the cover of the thick bedroll and joined him within it.

"How long have we known each other?" he asked in return. "You should know me better than that by now."

Morrigan sighed while she shifted her body closer to his. "You haven't a clue what to do next, do you?"

"Something will come to me. It always does."

"And even knowing full well that I've no logical reason to trust in your confidence, I find myself believing you. No matter how great the odds, you always manage to find a way. 'Tis an ability that you alone possess. However, I would caution you. Our task is far from finished. We've still several days travel and a great deal can happen during that time."

The Warden propped himself up on his elbow and leaned over to look at his beautiful witch. His fingers went to brush a few loose strands of hair from her face as he calmly said to her, "We're on a remote path that hardly anyone uses anymore. We'll be back in Highever before you know it. Trust me. Everything will be just fine. What could possibly go wrong?"


	27. Chapter 27

**Part XXVII**

The steady and rapid _tap tap tap_ of the top of the pen being mindlessly tapped against the hard wooden desk in the study echoed throughout the room and out into the stone hallways and corridors of the castle. Fergus thought to himself as he reclined back against the thick plush chair, the pen still rapping loudly against the desk. He'd sent a letter to all the lords he could think of concerning Habren and her claim over the now vacant seat in South Reach, but he was sure there were some that he missed.

There were far too many lords, ladies, and other nobles in Ferelden for Fergus to keep an accurate track of. In addition to that, many of the lesser nobility often changed, seemingly at a moment's notice. The teyrn wanted to make sure he'd contacted all of them, or at least all those he could. The more of the Fereldan nobility he could muster to his cause, the more of a chance he had to seriously hamper Raythorne's intentions. Many of these lords held considerable political sway that Fergus could ill-afford to lose. Some of them might even be incensed over the fact that the teyrn had forgotten them and refuse their aid on that cause alone. As always, Fereldan politics was a tricky matter.

For the past several days, Fergus had occupied himself with the business of sending out a stack of letters, holding out hope that at least some of the more influential lords would rally to his side. It was really the only thing he could do while he waited for The Warden's return. At times, he was able to take small breaks and spend some quality time with his nephew, who was obviously growing tired of the constant guard his uncle had placed over him. Considering that Seth had been taken from the castle once before, Fergus wasn't about to risk anything and had four of his best men with the boy at all times. Mostly, though, Fergus just sat in his study and penned letter after letter, dispatching riders to all corners of the country.

Even if the lords chose to side with him, Fergus knew his plan had far too many weak spots. As Alistair pointed out, Habren could very well decide to aid their enemies out of sheer spite. That was assuming that The Warden was even able to bring her back at all.

Therein lay the greatest risk. Fergus was counting on his brother to deliver the girl back to Castle Cousland unharmed. Without that happening, everything else would be pretty much moot. Still, Fergus never questioned The Warden's abilities. He never once doubted that before long, The Warden and his witch would come riding back into the castle and present a healthy Habren who was no worse for wear. The teyrn had staked his entire strategy on it.

Fergus pushed his chair back away from the desk, buried his face in his hands, and rubbed hard in an effort to wipe away the fatigue and strain. He slouched down in his large chair and let out a long sigh. He hoped that everything he'd done was enough. It was really the only thing he could do. There was only so many letters he could write and so many plans he could make. At some point, he was going to have to have faith that everything would play out in their favor. Fergus saw that time had come, especially considering there wasn't anything else he could do but hope.

With a grunt, he raised himself from his chair and slowly walked out of the study. If he was lucky, there was still enough time for him to have a brief visit with his nephew before the child laid down for the night. It was something that always lifted his spirits no matter how terrible things seemed to be.

* * *

Under a cloudless and starry sky, a cold chill had covered the land. The Warden's breath was clearly visible in the crisp night air. He leaned against the thick base of a tree and stared off into the darkness which surrounded him.

While the others warmed themselves by the glow of the fire, The Warden faithfully stood watch. Even though it had been several days since they freed Habren from her captors, he was sure that out there somewhere two sets of eyes were fixed on his position. The fact that neither he nor Morrigan had seen any evidence of pursuers did little to assuage his fears. The Warden's eyes narrowed while he squinted, attempting to pierce the night with his gaze. The two remaining soldiers, or mercenaries, or whatever they were, had to be out there somewhere, watching and waiting for their chance to strike. The Warden was as sure of this as he was his own name. After all, if the situation were reversed he would surely do the same; stalk his prey and wait for the perfect opportunity to attack.

What was even more worrisome was the fact that these men were professionals; highly trained fighters who knew how to carry themselves in a battle. Had they merely been dealing with the average run-of-the-mill lackey, things would be different. More than likely, the soldiers would have fled at the first sign of the fight turning against them, never to be seen or heard from again. But the men The Warden and Morrigan faced before had used complex tactics and skill which suggested not only extensive training, but also a wealth of experience in how to apply that training.

The sound of a snapping twig caught The Warden's attention. In a flash his blade was drawn and his attention focused on the direction the sound came from. He planted his feet firmly in the dirt and readied himself.

"Is it your intention to strike me down?" An approaching voice asked from the shadows.

"Morrigan." The Warden said in realization and relaxed from his fighting stance.

"'Tis I." the witch replied as she stepped out from the night and revealed herself.

"I see you've the same suspicions as I." the witch noted. "Even in this remote place, we are not alone."

"Sorry about that." he said. "You can never be too careful."

In one fluid motion, The Warden returned his blade to its sheath. He moved closer to greet his witch, extending his hand out to her, which she took in hers. With a gentle tug he pulled her close to him, throwing his arms about her waist.

"You're chilled to the bone." he said. "Here, let me warm you up some."

The witch rolled her eyes. "Now is most certainly not the time for you to be doting upon me." she groaned. "We've far more pressing matters that require your attention."

"_You_ are always my primary concern." he replied, throwing in a tight squeeze for good measure.

"Impossible man."Morrigan huffed.

With a gentle, yet firm touch, The Warden held his witch tightly against him while he rubbed his hands up and down her exposed arms and shoulders. Her light moan told him that the witch objected to his attention far less than she let on. The Warden knew his witch well enough to know that had she truly not wanted his doting, she would have put up a far stronger fight. Instead, she pressed herself up against him, delighting in the warmth that his skilled hands gave her.

He often wondered why the witch dressed herself as she did. No matter what the conditions seemed to be, Morrigan generally wore as little clothing as she could. It wasn't as if The Warden minded seeing tantalizing pieces of his witch's skin. To the contrary, he very much enjoyed looking at Morrigan. And it wasn't as if she was ever revealing anything that she saved for his eyes alone, although she did have a habit of skirting that boundary very closely at times.

When they were back home at the cottage, and it was just the two of them and Seth, Morrigan preferred to go nude. She'd spend the entire day wandering around wearing nothing more than what nature had given her. He'd actually gotten used to seeing his witch bask under the sun's golden rays with nary a stitch of clothing on. Ever since the trouble started, though, that rather enticing habit had since vanished. But even in this chilly weather, Morrigan refused to cover herself up completely. She claimed in the past that she didn't feel the cold as he did, but The Warden never fully believed that to be the case. More likely, he thought, she needed to preserve her image of power and strength at all times, even when it wasn't very comfortable to do so. The witch wasn't about to let something as trivial as the weather dictate how she clothed herself.

Under The Warden's relaxing touch, Morrigan leaned her head against him, relishing the closeness. There were far too few of these intimate moments for the witch's liking. It always felt as if the world were trying to tear them apart. "Why can it not always be as this?" she asked.

"As what?" The Warden asked in return, not really clear of his witch's meaning.

"Why must there always be turmoil in this wretched land?" she clarified. "Always there is something which threatens to drive us apart. Can there ever be peace, or shall I be forever forced to survive on those fleeting few moments we are afforded? I fear that we shall never have a chance at a life of our own, yet I find myself wanting nothing more. 'Tis in these brief instances we are allowed to share where I am reminded of how desperately I yearn for you."

It wasn't often that Morrigan freely confessed what she felt to him, but when she did, he cherished each and every word as though it could be the last he'd ever hear. He knew, however, that there was a great truth in her words. He could tell her that he felt the same way, but she probably already knew that, so there was little point. Instead, his strong fingers gave another tight squeeze and he leaned his head against hers, conveying his response through his touch.

"I am aware that you probably think of me as nothing more than a silly girl who is far too fixated on her own emotions." she muttered softly. Morrigan always felt uneasy talking about her feelings, even to him. But these were things she'd been feeling for some time and figured it was something he ought to know. Maybe it was some sort of test, she thought. Until she started to confide in her warden, the life together they both dreamed about would always be just out of reach. What did she have to lose by trying? Nothing else seemed to work.

"I don't think you're being silly. I completely understand what you're saying." The Warden said, breaking his long silence. "Someday, Morrigan. Someday we'll be able to leave this life behind and grow old and gray together."

"Speak for yourself." the witch quipped coyly. "I intend on staying young and beautiful forever."

"I bet you do." he murmured slyly in return while his lips caressed the sensitive part of her neck, sending the witch into an uncontrolled shiver. He smiled wide as he witnessed the fruits of his labors: the large goosebumps forming all over his witch's arms.

"Dwemer, cease that this instant!" she commanded in a huff, trying hard not to giggle while she shimmied and squirmed beneath his experienced touch.

Choosing to do the exact opposite, he continued his barrage against her senses. "You're so much fun to play with." he teased as his lips worked their magic on her.

To further her agony, his fingers pulled her shirt up just high enough to expose another soft and vulnerable area to his exploration. He lightly traced his fingertips across the smooth surface, causing a bolt of energy to surge through the witch. His unrelenting torture of her continued with both his lips and his hands. Helpless to his assault, Morrigan could contain herself no longer, and her excited giggles and shrieks burst out.

In a vain effort to turn the tables on him, she pulled up the back of his shirt and desperately tried to affect him in the same way. But it was of no use. He was unaffected.

"Is there no amount of fairness in this world?" she was able to at last gasp when he finally gave her a reprieve. "I succumb to even the slightest amount of pressure, yet your thick hide is incapable of any response whatsoever. 'Tis a maddening thing, indeed. Of all my weaknesses, I most regret you finding that one. Were it my choice, our places would be reversed so that you could know how it feels."

The Warden started to tell his witch that there was probably a spell out there somewhere which could grant her wish. But he decided against it, knowing that there probably really was such a thing, and even if there wasn't, he figured Morrigan would just concoct her own. It was an idea he didn't particularly enjoy.

"Are you telling me that you hate it when I tickle you like that?" he asked instead. "I bet if I checked, I'd find something was awake and ready."

"I did not say that. You know full well that it arouses me. Although, why it does so, I've no clue."

"I'm just thankful that it does." The Warden joked before his lips found hers in a deep kiss.

While his lips kept her otherwise occupied, his hands resumed their wandering. Although instead of light tickles, this time his hands changed to more urgent caresses. He lightly traced a path downward through the small of her back, pausing briefly to enjoy giving her posterior a good healthy squeeze before moving lower to the back of her thigh. As his mouth continued to ravage her, he brought her leg up to him, lifting it high and holding it tight against his side so that her inner thigh rubbed against him.

As was the norm for The Warden and his witch, they hadn't made love in a long while and the overwhelming desire threatened to consume them both. And even though the night was crisp and the ground hard, the growing stiffness in his trousers spurred The Warden on as he lustily grabbed his witch, hoisted her up while she wrapped her legs around him, and leaned her back against a large tree.

Once again his lips found her as they moved up one side of her neck, and then down the other. He breathed her exotic aroma in, inhaling deeply between each kiss; drunk on the smell of her sweet fragrance. Uncontrollably, Morrigan writhed in his arms, arching her breasts and hips outward, desperate for his attention where she needed it most.

Then, without warning, The Warden suddenly stopped cold. His head popped up and his face became deadly serious. For long seconds, he said nothing while his eyes darted about as if he was searching for something.

"What troubles you?" the witch asked, perplexed by his sudden change in demeanor.

"Did you hear something?" he replied, his eyes still scanning the area. "I could have sworn I heard something."

"I heard nothing. 'Twas merely your overactive imagination having its way with you in order to prevent _you _from having your way with _me_."

His focus snapped back to his witch and his blue eyes met with her soft golden orbs. "I do like having my way with you." he said.

"Then if your desire is to do so, I strongly suggest you discontinue such distractions and resume what you've already started..." the witch purred, "lest I be forced to find other means."

"We can't have that at all." he joked. "I'd never be able to forgive myself for making you do something yourself when I would have been all too happy to oblige."

The Warden leaned in, intending to continue where he left off. However, before his lips could make contact to hears, he froze once more and then slowly pulled away. Morrigan's face instantly formed into a deep scowl.

Even when they were alone, they were not alone. The Warden made sure that he never wavered in his duty. For the entire time his lips centered on Morrigan, his senses were still alert and aware of his surroundings. As much as he desired to give her everything of himself, he was unable to. He always brought everyone who needed his protection with him wherever he went.

The witch began to scold her warden, but before the words left her mouth, she heard something too. A faint repeating echo in the distance that seemed to carry throughout the entire forest. It didn't take her long to realize the source of the sound.

"'Tis merely that idiot mabari barking into the night." she huffed, folding her slender arms and glaring at him for not even recognizing the sound of his oldest friend.

"I know." he replied without looking at her. "Leo doesn't bark for no reason, Morrigan. Not when he's guarding something. I think I better go have a look. I'll be right back. Then I can pick up were I left off."

Morrigan, of course, new that he was right. Leo almost never barked unless he had good cause. It was part of his extensive training, which because of how goofy he behaved most of the time, Morrigan often forgot he had. "Shit!" she exclaimed under her breath.

"Wait." she ordered, stopping him in his tracks. "I shall accompany you. 'Tis the only way to ensure you make good on your promise." And together they marched back toward the camp.

As they got closer, they noticed that Leo's barking had grown more exigent. The Warden and his witch hurried their pace, knowing that the beast was certainly riled over something. The mabari began to emit a low, fierce growl in between bouts of loud barks. Had the beast not been commanded to look after the tent where Habren rested, he surely would have bolted off into the forest, chasing the source of his agitation.

The Warden bounded into the small clearing which held their campsite, closely followed by Morrigan. Habren sat at the front of the tent, peering out through the small slit in the cloth which she pulled aside in order to get a better view. She had been raised in a castle filled with mabari and was familiar with their mannerisms. Even Habren was aware that something was not quite right.

The Warden leaped over the fire and quickly crouched down next to the warhound. Upon seeing his master, the best instantly grew silent, save only for a few faint whimpers. The Warden turned his head around to see Habren watching both him and the mabari. "Sit tight and be quiet." he said to her.

He then turned back to the beast, throwing his arm around Leo's thick, meaty shoulders and asking, "What is it boy?"

The Warden held his hand up to block the light of the fire from his sight and both he and Leo peered into the blackness surrounding the camp. While nothing indicated that anything was secretly spying them from the cover of the trees, the beast was still visibly agitated and antsy. He shuffled in his spot and continued whimpering. His keen ears and nose could clearly detect what the others could not.

"I tire of this." Morrigan said, matter-of-factly and her arms rose above her head while a soft light began to emanate from her core.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" The Warden asked.

"My intent is to flush out our would-be observer. In my bear-form, my sense of smell is far stronger than any dog's. Should I happen to find anyone lurking about, they shall serve as a convenient target for my ire at having been interrupted yet again."

"Alright, fine. Just be careful." he replied as Morrigan finished her transformation into a large brown bear and lumbered off towards the trees, her powerful snout stuck to the ground and leading the way.

Leaning in close to the mabari's ear, The Warden whispered, "I feel for whoever she does find out there."

Within only a few minutes, a loud roar bellowed out, letting all those in the area know that the witch had located her quarry. The roar of the bear was quickly followed by a man's screams; a terrible testament to the savageness with which Morrigan attacked.

The sounds radiated around the camp, seeming to move one way, then the next. Whoever it was that the witch was after was proving to be a more elusive target than anticipated. Either he was managing to put up more of a fight than Morrigan figured he was able to, or he kept finding a way to elude her killing blow, or perhaps both.

Eventually, the screams and roars ceased. What remained unclear was who the victor turned out to be. Had the witch succeeded in her task, or through some cruel twist of fate, had her foe managed to best her? Anxious minutes passed and there was still no answer to that question. Leo, too, even seemed worried about Morrigan. He stared at his master with large brown eyes that The Warden would swear were full of worry, before jerking his beefy head back around to fix his gaze on the trees.

Finally, there came a rustling in the brush and a form stepped out from the blackness. It was a large hairy form that moved on all fours, much to The Warden's relief. The witch slowly meandered back to the fire, dragging something along in her great maw; it was a body.

When she reached the fire, Morrigan opened her jaws and spat out the dead man's arm. With her great paw, she rolled the man over to his back, and even though a permanent expression of terror was etched into his face, The Warden, Morrigan, and Habren all recognized the man. He had indeed been part of the group of soldiers who held Habren captive. If there was any other doubts, the well-crafted armor the man wore that was caked with blood and dirt, dispelled them.

"He shall trouble us no longer." The witch said with an heir of satisfaction upon returning to her human form. "He was no doubt spying on us, waiting for an opportune moment to strike."

"Yeah, but the question is: where's the other one? We left two soldiers alive." The Warden noted while he stroked his chin in thought.

He found it highly improbable that the soldier had acted alone. If these men where as highly trained as The Warden thought they were, they would have known better. The dead man's companion was still out there somewhere. Perhaps he'd seen or heard the conflict and was scared away. Although, that was probably more than The Warden could hope for.

Morrigan grunted slightly, as she did whenever she felt discomfort. The witch was never one to show any pain if she could help it. But the manner of the grunt's meaning didn't escape The Warden. Something had hurt her.

He looked over to her to see her wide golden orbs staring back at him. Her brows furrowed tightly, conveying her effort while she tried to mentally control the sensation. Her legs grew weak, and she stumbled when she tried to take a step.

"Dwemer..." was all she muttered before she dropped to her knees and fell over on her face.

The Warden caught the glint of something reflective in the light. There, protruding out of Morrigan's lower back, was a large dagger deeply embedded in her. Horror filled The Warden when he saw the blade.

"_No_!" he cried out and he leaped to his witch's side.


	28. Chapter 28

**Part XXVIII**

The Warden's trembling hands quickly went comfort his wounded witch. He stared in horror at the shiny metal blade that pierced her back, unable to remove his gaze from it. She reached out to take his hand, which he gently received. He looked up at her and saw a soft and tender stare, as if she was trying to tell him that it wasn't nearly as bad as it appeared to be. But he knew better than that. Her eyes couldn't hide the great deal of pain she was in. He reached out with his hand and pulled the dagger from her back with a hard tug, causing Morrigan to wince and cry out in pain.

Out of the corner of The Warden's eye, a glinting flash caught his attention. His head snapped up and his eyes honed in on the direction of the movement. There, standing at the farthest edge of the campfire's warm glow, stood the other soldier.

The soldier froze in his tracks when he saw that he'd been spotted by The Warden. It was clear that the man intended on making a run for it and was hoping not to be seen. Now that he had been noticed, however, he looked a bit unsure as to what to do next. Upon closer inspection, The Warden saw that the small sheath against his side was empty. The dagger it held was missing.

"You!" The Warden screamed at the man. "You did this to her!"

Jumping up, The Warden started stomping angrily toward the unsure soldier. He pulled his long blade from it's sheath and stormed ahead. The man panicked. All the color left his face at the sight of the most feared swordsman in Ferelden barreling right at him. His feet refused the frantic commands to take flight. Instead, they rooted themselves to their spot. His only other course of action was to draw his own sword and try fend to off his assailant.

The Warden relieved the man of his weapon in one swift move, flinging the sword far into the woods. The look on the poor soldier's face indicated that he knew all to well what was to come next. He felt the burning sensation of something sharp piercing his belly and looked down to see The Warden's blade sinking deep into his gut. With a sharp twist, The Warden pulled his blade upward, slicing the man from his stomach, up through his ribs. As the blade was withdrawn, the man stumbled forward, falling to his knees in a forming puddle made of his own life's blood. The last thing the soldier ever saw was the blur of The Warden's sword cutting through the air and lopping off the man's head. The beheaded corpse tumbled over and flopped against the ground for several seconds, before becoming motionless.

Seeing his job finished, The Warden threw down his sword and raced back over to Morrigan. He knelt down beside her and took her hand in his. All of the rage washed out of his body when his eyes once again caught the sight of his wounded witch. Fear and worry replaced the grim scowl he held just a few seconds before.

"Morrigan...you're going to be alright." he muttered frantically. "Just tell me what I need to do."

She raised her hand to caress his cheek, unintentionally smearing it with her own blood. "My...my pack." she said; her words strained and requiring great effort.

The Warden turned his head back to the tent, focusing his eyes on Habren. "Bring me her pack!" he ordered. "Now! Hurry!"

"I'm not anyone's servant! Get it yourself!" the spoiled heiress snapped back.

"If she dies, I swear you'll be next!" he threatened fiercely in return. "Now bring me that goddamned pack!"

When Habren saw that The Warden fully meant what he'd said, the girl relented, saying, "Alright, alright. You don't have to threaten me. Where is it?"

"In the back far corner you'll see a small black leather pack. Bring it to me."

The girl disappeared from the opening to the tent as she obediently went to look for the witch's pack. The clang and clatter of items being strewn about could be heard from within the tent, a testament to how quickly Habren wished to be finished with her assigned task. Whether that was because she truly feared The Warden's threat or if she only desired to finish such a menial chore, couldn't be known for sure.

"I don't see anything like that." Habren called out from the back of the tent.

The Warden rolled his eyes in disbelief at the young woman's ineptitude. "It should be on the ground against the back corner of the tent, across from the bedroll."

"Dwemer..." the witch muttered weakly while her slender fingers gave his arm a gentle squeeze, trying to soothe her agitated warden.

"Don't try to talk. Save your strength." he replied, trying his best to seem confident, but his voice cracking. "Habren! Move your arse!" he shouted back at the tent.

The girl inside said nothing, only the sounds of a hectic search could be heard coming from the small cloth and leather structure.

"_Habren_!" The Warden yelled out again.

Finally, the young woman emerged from the tent, carrying a medium-sized black leather pack by the strap. "Found it!" she called out while she ran to give her prize to The Warden.

"Quick, give it here." he said, holding out his hands to receive the object from her.

With a quick flip, Habren tossed the pack to The Warden, who greedily snatched it from the air and flipped back the flap, exposing a considerable assortment of medicinal supplies. There were several vials filled with liquids of various colors and thickness. Stuffed to the side, bundles of herbs, roots, and other natural medicines lie in separate bunches whose fragrances mixed together in the bag, giving off a strong and pungent aroma.

"I don't know what any of these things are." The Warden grumbled. "What do I use?"

With her blood-covered hand, Morrigan slowly reached out, taking far more effort to accomplish than she figured, to show her warden which of the herbs she required. "That one. The black root." she informed, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

He reached into the pack and grabbed the black root from it, undoing the knot in the string that held the several pieces of root clumped together. "I've got it, now what?" he asked.

"Scrape...scrape some...shavings off...onto a clean bandage. Pour...a few drops from the vial marked...'elven tears'...onto it, then...then place the cloth against the wound." the witch replied, her speech becoming even more labored as the pain became more intense and she weakened from the continual loss of blood.

The Warden could barely force his shaking hands to cooperate enough with him in order to do what was needed. He never had any problems pulling any blade from its place in order to use it before, yet now, his fumbling fingers seemed to dance all around the dagger's handle and the edge of the small sheath that held it against his waist. At last, he was able to jerk it free and use it's razor sharp edge to peel away several chunks of root, which he adjusted so that they sat squarely in the center of a white bandage.

Next, he pulled the small vial of elven tears from the pack and he unplugged the cork stopper from its place with is teeth, spitting the cork out to the side. His trembling hands probably ended up spilling far more of the liquid than was necessary, but he didn't have time to worry about that. With a stiff _slap_, The Warden smacked the bandage against the witch's back, covering the wound and causing the witch to suck in air sharply.

The white fabric was instantly soaked with blood and turned a deep red. Within seconds of being applied, small drips of the crimson fluid began dripping from the bottom edge and leaking onto the ground next to Morrigan. While that was to be expected, what surprised The Warden is how cold the bandage got. He swore he could see ice crystals starting to form within the fabric. And soon, it even seemed as if the flow of the from the gash had been greatly reduced. He didn't know what sort of magic the ingredients held or what exactly they were doing, he was just thankful that they appeared to be doing something beneficial.

Some of the pain in Morrigan's voice seemed to evaporate a bit and her speech became somewhat easier, although not a great deal. "Now..." she said, "you must heat the tip of your blade in the hottest coals of the fire, 'til the tip glows red."

Although The Warden was unfamiliar with potions and other strange brews, he understood perfectly what the witch wanted him to do. It was something he very much did not want her to have to go through. "Don't you have anything else in that pack of yours that will help?" he asked, hoping there was another way.

The witch shook her head a bit, saying, "There is no alternative, my love. The wound must be sealed."

He knew that his witch was right, of course. They were miles from the nearest village and if the wound were to become infected, which was a likely probability, there wasn't anyone or anything around that would help. He begrudgingly picked his dagger up once again and buried the tip deep into the ashen coals of the burning campfire. The flames wouldn't harm the magical blade, but it would still cause it to glow red-hot when heated enough.

He left the blade in the fire until it was ready to be used for its grisly task. While he waited, The Warden knelt down once again beside his witch. The bandage was continuing whatever magic it was doing on her injury, but she was still very weak and the strain was leaving her ever more exhausted. With a look of deep worry in his eyes, he softly brushed away the stray hairs that covered her cheeks.

"I think it's ready." he noted after glancing over to the fire.

Morrigan said nothing in return, only silently nodding her head in recognition of him. He stood up, went over to the crackling fire, and withdrew the blade from the embers. The tip glowed red hot; the great heat warped the air around it, sending little ripples up into the night. The Warden walked back over to where the witch lay and got down on one knee. He pulled her shirt up higher, peeled away the bandage, and readied the dagger.

"I'm so sorry for this." he said apologetically.

"Do what you must and be quick about it. We've no time for weakness." she replied stoically.

His free hand went to clasp hers, rubbing his thumb back and forth along the back of her hand. He swallowed hard and proceeded.

The witch writhed in agony beneath him while the hot metal seared her bloodied flesh. Morrigan yelled out, screaming from the intense pain which consumed her. Smoke billowed up and the air began to stink of burning flesh. The witch clenched his hand in hers, clutching it so tightly that her nails dug deep into his skin. Unable to handle the noise, Habren covered her ears and turned away. Even Leo seemed to sympathize with the witch's plight and he started to howl in unison with her.

When the deed was done, The Warden cast his dagger to the side, not wanting to be close to the instrument of his wife's pain. He took her in his arms and held her close to him. The witch, weak and in great pain from her ordeal, threw her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his chest.

"It's alright. It's alright." he said to her gently, as if he were consoling a child. "It's over now."

* * *

The cottage had been relatively quiet and free of incident for the past several days, almost as if Alistair and Edalweiss had established a silent truce of sorts between them. They went about their daily routines not really saying anything of importance to one another, instead making casual conversation like they were trying to feel each other out to see exactly where one stood with the other.

Over the course of that time, what they discovered was not at all what they expected to find. Edalweiss began to clearly see the greatness within Alistair, if he'd only let it out once in a while. She was starting to understand why the others often said he wasn't living up to his potential. There was far more to him than he gave himself credit for.

When the conversations would become meaningful, they would talk about how Eamon always held such high expectations for Alistair, even when he was a youth, and how Alistair constantly felt like he was letting the arl down. He feared that he could never be the man Eamon wished him to be. He'd spent his childhood as an unwanted burden who, through some sheer stroke of luck or divine plan, managed to become king of an entire nation. But as was always the way, Alistair managed to louse that up as well. Now, because of his own stupidity and short-sightedness, foreign powers were in control of Ferelden.

Although Edalweiss was not usually one for offering up pity, she found it very hard not to feel sorry for Alistair. She might have had a rougher lot in life than most, but at least she had known her parents and always felt as if they'd loved her very much. Had Alistair been accepted into his own family, things might have turned out very differently for him. He might even have been instilled with the self-confidence that he always seemed to lack. She felt like he'd been deprived of the very thing he needed in order to realize what a great leader he could become.

Edalweiss, on the other hand, was turning out to be even far more complex than Alistair had originally thought her to be. On the outside, he knew her to be flighty and easily distracted, but the more he got to know about her, the more he learned that these qualities weren't especially bad things. As it turned out, those same traits also prevented her from dwelling on the harshness of her life and it allowed her to always try to see the good things in everyone and everything.

Not once did she allow herself to get mired down in self-pity. Alistair soon saw that her bubbly personality wasn't merely a defense mechanism, it was truly how she was. Whether such a thing was instilled on her by her parents at a young age, he couldn't say for sure, but regardless of where it originated from, it allowed Edalweiss to live her life to the fullest and embrace each moment with a joy and zeal he'd never seen before. Life truly was a grand adventure for her that was meant to have every nuance explored and every experience relished.

The ability to carry herself like that in the face of all that she'd been through earned her a newfound respect from Alistair. He found he was becoming genuinely envious of her carefree nature. And after hearing her explain in vivid detail all that she'd endured in her short life, his troubles didn't seem so great anymore. Here she was, a woman who had lost both her sight and her parents at a very young age, someone who'd been transplanted from her home in Nevarra to a land that wasn't her own, and yet she still found the resolve and strength to not just soldier on, but to live; it was something that made Alistair more than slightly ashamed of his often cynical attitude. He might have been the rightful king of Ferelden, but he still felt she was a far greater person than he.

His interest in the small woman was quite a bit different than the attraction he'd felt for Dyana. His former captain of the guard had led a relatively comfortable life, growing up in an average family and raised by two loving parents. It was her two elder brothers that taught her to be a fighter and never back down. Being the youngest of three children was hard enough, but having two much older brothers who pestered her mercilessly meant that either she learned to stand up to them, or become the object of their endless teasing. These were the things that had given Dyana her '"take charge" attitude and turned her into an aggressive, confident woman.

But Alistair finally realized those traits only served to heighten his sexual attraction to her. No matter how much he might have wanted otherwise, he'd based nearly their entire relationship on sex. She was his first love and he'd acted with all the expected inexperience, blowing things far out of proportion in the process. He was starting to think that Dyana might have been right when she said that both of them needed to grow up a bit.

He'd done some very foolish things concerning Dyana. He moved too quickly and tried to force the issue on more than one occasion. When Dyana broke things off, he couldn't understand why she was rejecting him or what he'd done wrong. He felt so sure that he loved her and she him. But his friend The Grey Warden was right, it was nothing more than a physical attraction. He at last understood what Dyana was saying to him in the forest outside West Hill. He promised himself he wasn't going to make the same mistakes again. If he and Edalweiss were meant to pursue a romantic relationship, then he would proceed more slowly this time. He would take things as they come and show patience when needed. For the one thing Alistair knew for sure, if Edalweiss didn't want to take things any further, he wasn't going to lose her as a friend.

Suddenly, Eda came bursting into the den with Muirghein darting around her, jarring Alistair from his thoughts. "Someone is coming!" she exclaimed excitedly.

Alistair jumped up from the plush chair in front of the fireplace. "Who's coming? I didn't hear anything." he said.

"Muiren says he can sense three people headed this way." she replied while the fish zoomed up to Alistair, clicking and chirping as he animatedly tried to convey his story. The fish was so excited that his thin mustache twitched while he bobbed and weaved back and forth, his silky skin shimmering in the fire's light.

Alistair ran over to the corner where he'd stuffed all of his belongings and reached for his blade. "Does he know who it might be?" he asked while he fastened the buckle of his belt around his waist.

"He doesn't think he knows who it is. He _knows_ he knows who it is: Dwemer and Morrigan are back." Edalweiss answered.

Muirghein zipped and danced around Alistair, trying to convince the former king that the small woman was correct. It was almost like he was urging the man toward the front of the cottage so that Alistair could open the door and take a look for himself.

"They're close. Just outside." Edalweiss confirmed.

Alistair allowed the fish to guide him to the door, grabbed the small metal ring, and turned it. The sound of the latch clicking free was soon followed by the moaning creak the door made as it was opened. Alistair stretched his neck and peered around the edge of the door to look outside, and what he saw puzzled him at first. He was clearly able to make out The Warden in the light of the waning sun, but the woman standing next to him didn't look anything like Morrigan. It took him a moment to recognize who she was, but after a bit of squinting and straining his eyes, Alistair saw who it was and was flooded with something he hadn't felt for quite some time: hope.

He'd found Habren and brought her back and she looked to be no worse for wear. Even though he never let himself doubt that his friend would succeed in his quest, the actual sight of the girl standing there was almost too good to believe. "He did it again." Alistair thought.

With a hearty pull, Alistair swung the door wide and bolted outside to jubilantly greet his friend, Edalweiss and Muirghein close on his heels. "You old bastard!" he shouted out. "You actually did it, didn't you? I mean, not that I didn't think that you would, but to really see it. I didn't honestly think there was any way you could possibly...I mean...not that I ever doubted you...it's just that..."

"Alistair..." Edalweiss interrupted. "You're babbling again."

"So I am." he admitted sheepishly. "I'm just happy that he's finally back." he said trying to defend himself. Turning his attention back to The Warden he blurted out, "You're actually back. And you did it...again! Maker's breath, I'm starting to think there isn't anything you can't do."

"There are some things even I can't prevent..." The Warden said softly with a deep somber look on his face. He turned his head to look down at something Alistair hadn't noticed before: A hastily constructed stretcher made of tree limbs and sticks.

One end was held up by The Warden while the other was tied to Leo using some cut straps of leather tied into a makeshift harness. On top of the stretcher, a bedroll had been placed along with a pillow or two. A shocked gasp escaped both Alistair and Edalweiss when they saw who was resting on top.

"Morrigan's been injured!" Alistair exclaimed. "What happened?"

Weakly, the witch rolled her head up to address the former king. "Why dear Alistair, do I detect concern for my well being? I must say that I am rather shocked at such a reaction from you of all people."

"She'll be fine." The Warden added. "It could have been worse than it was. We just need to get her inside and lying down so that she can rest. Where's the demon?"

"Last I saw, she was still inside. Probably looking at us through the window and gloating." Alistair answered.

"She hasn't been all that difficult, actually." Edalweiss noted. "Nothing that we couldn't handle."

"Good." The Warden replied with a nod. "Go find her and let her know that we're back. We'll need to make preparations for her to transfer my child back as soon as Morrigan regains her strength."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, the last transfer took a great deal out of both of them, do you think Morrigan is ready for that?"

"We don't have time to wait. The switch is only viable for a short time. To wait any longer would put the baby at risk. Neither Morrigan nor myself is about to let that happen. Besides, we accomplished what we needed to do so it isn't really necessary anymore." The Warden explained.

"Dwemer...no. I'll not let you do this alone." Morrigan mumbled, her hand rising up to caress him.

"I've made up my mind, Morrigan. I'm done playing these bullshit games. I'm going back to Denerim to put an end to this once and for all."


	29. Chapter 29

**Part XXIX**

Finally, everything was crystal clear to The Warden. As long as they kept playing Raythorne's game it would be nothing but an endless circle of fruitless quests and dead ends; which is precisely how Raythorne wanted it to be. As long as his foes remained confused and otherwise occupied, they posed no real threat to his plans until it was far too late to do anything about it.

But after hearing of Raythorne's men having difficulties crossing the border into Orlais, The Warden realized that the game hadn't been about politics, or espionage, or anything similar. The main focus was always the same: keeping him as far from Denerim as possible. The plan to keep him distracted over protecting his homeland from the Orlesians was nothing more than an elaborate gambit designed to keep him from interfering with the real scheme, which was the union of Marlori and Anora.

It was doubtful that anyone other than Raythorne and Marlori knew of the true plans. Certainly even Bryland was little more than a useful pawn who was conveniently dispatched when his usefulness had come to an end. The Warden began to seriously doubt whether the Orlesians had ever even played a significant role in what was happening. If they had, the Empress would have been far more likely to harbor Habren's captors rather than deny them entrance. Raythorne knew Bryland's conscience would end up getting the better of him. In fact, he was counting on it. With The Warden off in Western Ferelden trying to track down the arl's daughter, Marlori would be free to take Anora as his bride unopposed. The Warden felt like a great fool for not seeing it before.

That's not to say that the Orlesians gaining control of the western half of Ferelden was an outright lie. There was indeed more than a small kernel of truth to it. In order for the plan to succeed completely, Orlais would have to be involved at some point. That's what made the plan so incredibly believable. The primary goal was always to restore Alistair to the throne. Once that was accomplished, any marriage between Anora and Marlori was meaningless. However, it was only now that The Warden saw the truth and he knew just what he was going to do about it.

"All this time, all Raythorne was really after was to keep me away from Denerim so I couldn't interfere." The Warden reasoned as he, Alistair, and Edalweiss paced grooves into the floor of the cottage den.

"So you're going back there? What about the letter? Without any way of proving it's a fake we won't have anything backing us up." Alistair noted.

"That might be true, but I have a feeling Brother Cantarus wants to get something off his chest."

"What do you mean? Are you implying he's somehow wrapped up in all this?"

"He has to be, Alistair. Who better to alter the letter than the very person responsible for authenticating it? He certainly had it in his possession long enough."

"But didn't Morrigan say the letter was genuine?" Alistair asked, a bit puzzled by his friend's line of thought.

"No, she only said it wasn't magically altered, which it hadn't been. She wouldn't be able to authenticate the letter's actual age or origin without studying it for a longer period than she had. I'll wager the letter Bryland had was nothing more than a fake written by Cantarus' own hand."

"That's absurd. Brother Cantarus is a distinguished member of The Chantry. Why would he do anything so outrageous?"

"For the same reason Bryland helped them: he was forced to."

"That does make some sense. After all, he is an expert on old documents. If anyone could pull off a convincing fake, it would be him." Alistair agreed, nodding his head slightly while the gears of his mind slowly warmed to The Warden's reasoning. "But can you prove it?"

"Not yet. But I mean to correct that small oversight once I get back to Demerim." The Warden said as if getting to the truth was nothing but a simple formality. "Leave it to me. The next time I talk to the good brother, I bet he'll be more than happy to tell me everything I want to know."

"I'm not sure if I care for the sound of that." Alistair replied.

"Who knows how many people they've hurt or killed? I aim to stop this madness before it can hurt anyone else."

Alistair might not have been the sharpest blade in the land, but he knew his friend well enough to know that there was more to it than The Warden was letting on. "You're just angry because Morrigan got injured. Admit it. They hurt you and now you're going to hurt them back."

"Alright, I'll admit it." The Warden confessed. "And I swear on my parents graves that there's no place in Ferelden, Antiva, or all Thedas they can go to hide from me."

"Wouldn't you do the same thing if the love of your life got hurt by some bad men?"Edalweiss asked Alistair.

"I suppose I would. Although I doubt I'd be able to accomplish it as completely as our friend here. I'm just happy he's on our side." Alistair joked.

The Warden turned to face Habren, who had been sitting quietly in the plush chair by the fireplace. The news of her father's death had stung the heiress quite badly. Ever since she'd been told, Habren had said little to anyone. "I'm taking you to the castle in the morning." The Warden told her. "Fergus can arrange escort for you back to South Reach."

With angry, teary eyes the girl looked back up and hissed, "So you still pretend to be The Grey Warden? I bet when Teyrn Fergus hears about how you've mocked his brother he'll toss you so far under the castle you'll never see the light of day again."

"But he _is_ The Grey Warden." Alistair objected. "Haven't you noticed how people around here act towards him?"

"That's not very convincing." Habren shot back. "Other than you people, I haven't seen anyone else for days. For all I know, all of you are holding me hostage for ransom."

"Don't be ridiculous." Alistair scoffed. "And I suppose you don't recognize me either?"

"I have to admit that your face is vaguely familiar to me. Weren't you one of the servants at my family's summer estate?"

"No, I wasn't!" Alistair blurted out. "I used to be King of Ferelden not too long ago."

"That's impossible. If you were the king, I'm sure I'd remember you." Habren replied indignantly. "You people have some kind of nerve. I just found out that my father was killed and you still insist on continuing this pointless charade. When Teyrn Fergus hears about this, he'll have all of your heads."

Alistair's gasped at the young girl's gall. Anger began to assert it's control over him. "Do you here this?" he asked, turning to the other people in the room. "You're welcome for the rescue, you ungrateful little..."

"That's enough, Alistair." The Warden interrupted, having heard all he could tolerate. "This is pointless. We have much more important things to worry about than who Habren thinks we really are. In the morning I'll be taking her to the castle. She can be Fergus' problem then. Right now, though, I'm going to check on Morrigan and I expect all of you to keep it down."

It wasn't often that The Warden used such a stern tone, but when he did, the others always respected it. It was quite evident that his witch's condition still weighed heavily on him. His eyes swept about the room to ensure that everyone understood his seriousness before he turned on his heels and headed out of the den on his way to the master bedchamber.

His hand turned the latch on the door and pushed it slowly open in an attempt to keep from disturbing the witch's rest. However, when the door was far enough open that he could see into the room beyond, more frustration rose up inside of his gut when his eyes spied Morrigan. Rather than lying down in their large and comfortable bed, she was up and moving about.

"What are you doing out of bed?" The Warden asked, startling his witch more than a little.

Morrigan turned around quickly, like a child that had just been caught in the act of doing something it was told not to. Rather than assume a defensive posture, however, a scowl formed on the witch's face and she went on the offensive, saying, "I've known cats who make more noise than you do. Why must you be so silent? Is it your aim to spy on me?"

The Warden knew his witch well enough to expect such a response, though. "I wasn't trying to spy on you. I was only coming to see how you were feeling." he said. "When it's me that's hurt, aren't you always telling me I need to rest and not exert myself?"

"That may be true," the witch responded, "however, I feel you are greatly exaggerating my condition. 'Tis but a minor scratch."

"A minor scratch? You had a dagger embedded into your back. I'd hardly call that minor. You scared the hell out of me with all the blood you lost."

"Dwemer, I am aware of your concern, and while my wounds are not yet wholly healed, the majority of my strength has returned to me. 'Twas due in no small part to your determined response. Perhaps you may have a far greater knack for healing than I originally thought to be possible."

"You might be feeling better, but that still doesn't mean you should be up and about. You need to rest. Am I going to have to worry about you the entire time I'm gone?" he asked. And then, like a bolt out of the blue, her true intentions hit him.

"You little minx." he scolded. "You're planning on going with me."

"I'll not send you off to your certain death alone. If the throne is to be won by force, we shall to do it together as we always have." the witch explained.

"Did you hit your head on something? Absolutely not. You are going to stay here and get well. Besides, you don't have the luxury of time. You're going to have to enact another transfer with the demon before it's too late."

The witch grumbled loudly as she rolled her eyes. "Now is hardly the time for your pigheadedness. You must set aside your stubborn pride and see the situation clearly. I do not need your protection, however, you will most certainly require my aid, lest you intend on tackling the whole of the royal guard on your own."

"If that's what it takes, then yes. Whatever I have to do to keep you safe."

"Why must you feel the need to serve as my protector? I tire of you treating me as if I were some frail and fragile thing. You insist on keeping me locked away in our quaint home whilst I am forced to worry about your welfare as you ride off to battle in order to save these fools from themselves yet again. Why must I be forced to endure such a ludicrous double standard in order that you remain at ease? Do you truly believe that I do not spend long nights pacing back and forth because I worry over you? Was it not I who risked everything so that you might be spared death when slaying the archdemon?"

"But I wasn't the one who just had a dagger buried in my back or who is going to give birth to our child." The Warden countered. "I know very well that you can take care of yourself. That's not the issue here. What's important is the baby. We both have to do what's best whether we agree with it or not. I'm not trying to be protective of you because I think you're weak, Morrigan. I'm trying to protect you because I love you."

"And I, you." The witch replied, her tone changing to that soft and special voice she saved only for his ear. "Therefore, would it not be reasonable to assume that I desire your safety as well?"

The Warden placed his hands gently over Morrigan's arms and lightly rubbed up and down. "I know you care. Honestly, I do." he said. "That's part of the problem. I don't want you risking yourself or doing something reckless for my sake."

"Yet 'tis perfectly acceptable for you to do something equally reckless..."

"Morrigan, please. I'm asking you to do this for me. You've just been injured, and despite what you say, it's far worse than you're letting on." The Warden pleaded. "Ordinarily you know I'd want more than anything to have you by my side, but just this once I need you to listen to me. I need you to stay here and be safe."

"And what of Alistair? Is he not the very reason you will be embarking on such a foolish endeavor?"

"That last thing we need if for Alistair to get hurt, too. If something did happen to him, that would kind of defeat our entire purpose, wouldn't it? I'm going alone."

"You damned stubborn fool. You fail to be satisfied until you get yourself killed."

"Think of it this way, Habren will be gone and you'll have some peace and quiet at last." The Warden joked.

Morrigan shook her head and groaned at her warden. "Ass. I do not desire peace and quiet. I desire for you to be reasonable." the witch quipped.

"I am being reasonable. Your two weeks is nearly up and the last transfer took a great deal out of you. You need to preserve your strength." The Warden urged softly. "You know I'm right about this."

Morrigan said nothing as her gaze dropped downward to the floor. Her slender hands reached out and took his, holding them tightly. As much as she wanted to dissuade him from his chosen course of action, she knew there was great logic in his argument. That didn't make the worry any less abundant, though.

Morrigan was aware that the blade that pierced her skin was meant for her warden. If she hadn't been there with him, he surely would have perished just as the demon predicted. She greatly feared that Death, having once again been deterred from claiming its prize, would make another attempt for her warden. That was the deciding factor when it came to making her final decision. Sometimes, the witch thought, the greater need outweighed a valid argument.

"I shall miss you terribly." Morrigan said as her golden eyes looked deeply into his. "Make love to me so that I can remember our final hours together fondly."

"Your wish is my command." he replied.

He leaned down to press his lips against hers, wrapping his strong arms around her much smaller frame and gathering her up. She leaned into his kiss, hungrily returning the favor with her own passion and urgency.

Then, without warning, the witch suddenly ceased and withdrew from him. His surprised eyes watched her and she backed away. A sly grin formed as she walked over to the door and locked it, sealing her quarry inside the bedchamber. This time, there was to be no escape.

"I'll not have any interruptions this time." she purred while she slowly strolled back to her warden and flung her arms over his shoulders.

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to their large bed, all the while he ravaged her lips and neck with his tender kisses. He gently eased her down onto the soft mattress. The couple appeared to be connected at the lips as they eagerly pulled and tugged at each others clothing. He ripped open her top, exposing her firm, full breasts and gleefully devoted his attention to them. Morrigan held her warden close and a deceptive grin crept across her lips.

"Do what you perceive is best, my love," the witch thought, "and I shall do the same."

* * *

The stone and marble towers of Castle Cousland rose high into the sky, casting long dark shadows over the people who scurried about beneath. The Warden approached the mighty gates of the castle with Habren riding behind him on his horse while he lead the beast along by the reigns. The mabari joined the pair at the insistence of the witch and Leo thoroughly enjoyed the expedition, as he always did, bounding about back and forth from one side of the road to the other while his nose lead him to each inviting scent.

The young woman grinned smugly to herself. She was hardly able to believe that this man was so desperate to make her believe his lies that he would actually take her to the castle. She knew that he would never have the nerve to actually pass through the gates and fully intended to call his bluff. She was determined to see to it that the guards saw them and carried him away. She thought to teach this upstart a well-deserved lesson in humility and remind him of his place.

To her surprise, however, she never got the chance to expose him, for the men standing watch on the parapets high above began calling out the strangest thing. "The Warden has returned!" they cried. The shouts carried from one man to the next, all the way down the line. And before Habren could fully realize what was happening, the huge wooden gates began to creak and moan as they swung open to receive them.

Although Habren admitted it was odd, she still remained unconvinced that this was indeed the true Grey Warden of myth and legend. More likely, she thought, he bore a much stronger resemblance to The Warden than she originally gave him credit for. Enough of a resemblance, in fact, to fool the castle guards into thinking this impostor was The Grey Warden.

It was the only explanation that made any sense. Why else would this man, whoever he really was, risk going so near the castle? He would only do so if he knew that there was a good chance he would be able to get away with it.

But the odd scene became even stranger as the man actually accepted the castle's invitation, walking through the open gates without any hesitation whatsoever. He even seemed completely at ease and familiar with his surroundings, as if they were nothing new to him. But Habren quickly shrugged this notion to the side, telling herself that he or a member of his family could have served as workers within the castle. That would certainly explain a great many things.

When they arrived at the steps to the main castle door in the courtyard, the man acknowledged the standing sentries with a nod to each, who gave a deep bow in return. Habren was aware that servants seldom bow to one another and suddenly became a bit less confident in her beliefs. Nevertheless, the young woman felt it was time to put an end to his lies and expose him for the fake that he really was.

"Guards, take this man into custody immediately." she ordered the sentries.

"What for?" the sergeant at arms asked.

"Isn't it obvious? For impersonating a member of the nobility."

Confused expressions came across each of the guards faces and they looked at one another, unsure of how to respond to the young woman's request.

"Pardon, my lady, but I don't exactly follow you. You want us to arrest him?" the sergeant asked again, still not quite clear on the matter. "Which member of the nobility do you think he's impersonating?"

"You ignorant dolt!" Habren huffed. "He says he's The Grey Warden."

"But, my lady, he _is_ the Grey Warden." the sergeant replied.

"Don't mind her, sergeant. I think she hit her head on something when she was a child." The Warden chimed in sarcastically, causing Habren to grumble loudly in disgust.

Just then, the main doors burst open and a small child came hopping down the steps with a broad smile on his little face. "Da!" The child shouted, not even bothering to wait until he was at the final step before leaping up into his father's arms.

"There's my big man." The Warden beamed down at his son. "Were you good for your uncle while I was away?"

Following behind Seth was the lord of the castle, Teyrn Fergus, who walked down the steps at a bit more leisurely pace. "I see you made it back in one piece, though the news isn't quite as good as I had hoped."

"I heard about Bryland. Somehow I can't say that I'm surprised. Raythorne seems to have everything pretty much covered." The Warden replied.

"That he does." Fergus agreed. "So what do you plan on doing about it now, I wonder?"

"I'm heading to Denerim to end this madness once and for all."

"Morrigan can't be too pleased about that. Where is that witch of yours, anyway?"

"It was a long journey. She's back resting at the cottage. Alistair and Eda are looking after her."

"I'm sure she's in the best of moods, then." the teyrn teased.

"Not exactly. You know how she gets. She'll be alright in a few days I'm sure." The Warden said. "In the meantime, I need you to handle getting Habren back to South Reach. That's where she needs to be in order to assume the responsibilities of her family's name. It'll make it that much harder for Anora to make Cuthbert arl if she's already in place overseeing the transfer of lordship."

"Agreed." Fergus replied. "And I suppose I'll be looking after this little scoundrel for a few more days then?" the teyrn asked as he playfully mussed Seth's hair.

"I would appreciate that. Morrigan still needs a few more days of rest before she'll be able to look after Seth on her own. I should be back soon, however."

"You really are him, aren't you?" Habren inquired with genuine surprise in her voice. "You're The Grey Warden."

"In the flesh." The Warden replied with a cocky grin.

The young woman's face showed signs of softening. It was quite apparent this was not the outcome she had anticipated at all and she was having a hard time coming to grips with it. "I..I guess I owe you and apology." she said. "You're not at all what I thought you'd be."

"That's alright. Maybe you'll learn something from all this. Maybe you'll find that it's often better not to be so rough on people because you never know when you might need their help."

"Maybe I will." Habren confirmed.

* * *

The witch strolled into the den where Alistair and Edalweiss were having a discussion on The Warden's chances of success. Ironically, even though Alistair had been witness to many of his friend's exploits, he still held many doubts that The Warden would be able to fight off the entire palace guard, deal with Raythorne and Marlori, and successfully restore the throne to its rightful owner. Edalweiss, on the other hand, was totally sure of The Warden's chances and advised Alistair that he should start preparing himself for another coronation.

"Both of you, pack your belongings." Morrigan commanded. "We've a journey to make."

"Didn't Dwemer specifically tell us to stay here and not get in the way?" Alistair questioned as if he was completely comfortable with that course of action.

"My husband's skull is thicker than any armor. Sometimes he refuses to see what is truly best." Morrigan answered. "It therefore falls on us to do what is needed whether he desires our aid or not."

"I don't know if I like the sound of that Morrigan. What about the demon and your baby?"

"'Tis true that the transfer must take place soon. However, I feel I can safely delay the transfer for several more days without the child suffering any ill effects. Considering what is at stake, I feel the risk is warranted."

"You can count me and Muiren in." Edalweiss offered with a smile. "I think Dwemer will need all the help he can get. Besides, it'll gives us a chance to pay back all the nice things you and Dwemer have done for us."

The witch turned her stare onto Alistair. "And what say you, O king?" she asked.

"Fine." Alistair grumbled. "I'll go. But we better hurry before I change my mind."


	30. Chapter 30

**Part XXX**

The Warden pushed his mount to its limits in order to reach Denerim as fast as he could. For nearly two days, he raced along the main roads, with the mabari running behind, stopping only briefly to rest and allow his horse and Leo to take in a much needed drink. Winter's grasp was becoming more apparent each passing day, which meant that The Warden was running out of time. Before long, the first hard freeze of the season would be upon them, and with it, Marlori's marriage to Anora. If anything was to be done to prevent that from happening, this was The Warden's last chance to act. If he was unable to do anything within the next few days, the ceremony would take place as planned and Ferelden would be placed firmly in the hands of the Antivans. He would be powerless to do anything about it.

Ignoring the soreness and fatigue that permeated his entire body, The Warden pressed on toward the shiny city in the east. His one final hope rested with Brother Cantarus. He prayed that he hadn't been distracted so long as to render even the brother's testimony pointless. For if he had, anything further Cantarus could offer to his cause would be shrugged aside by the new crown nestled atop Marlori's head.

The stability that a monarch offered was only trumped by one who had taken a consort and could offer an heir to the throne. That had always been a problem for Alistair, given that even if he had chosen a queen he was still a Grey Warden, and as such, had been rendered essentially sterile by the Taint that coursed through him. Once Marlori was able to make Anora his bride, there was virtually no possible way to reverse their position as the appointed rulers of Ferelden. The country would fall into ruin while it was turned into little more than a series of stops along the main trade routes. Most of the coin siphoned from the people would end up in the hands of the Princes of Commerce, over a thousand miles away. While Antiva and Orlais prospered, Ferelden would be left to whither and die.

It was near midday when The Warden passed through the gates of the city, still urging every last ounce of speed from his horse. The people in the streets were hardly even able to recognize him as he whizzed by in a blur. As he neared the center of the city and the streets became too congested for his steed to take him further with any amount of haste, he dismounted and continued the rest of the way on foot, with Leo by his side and helping to part the sea of people so that his master could more easily pass through.

With the wedding ceremony nearing, Denerim was alive with activity. The streets were filled with citizens making preparations for the upcoming nuptials. Banners were hung across streets. Businesses and homes were decorated with flowers and ribbons. The entire city seemed to be waiting anxiously for the marriage so that the largest and loudest of celebrations could take place. The poor fools held no idea of what fate awaited them.

The Warden stormed through the Market District on his way to the chantry which stood proudly in the northwest corner. People grumbled and complained as he unceremoniously brushed them to the side. Their complaints fell on deaf ears, however, as The Warden was far too focused on his task to hear them. A few tried to make their displeasure more clear to him, only to be faced with a growling warhound, and they quickly backed down, keeping any threats they were about to hurl politely to themselves.

Upon arriving at the chantry, The Warden barged in through the heavy wooden doors. He ignored the cries and objections of the upset brothers and sisters gathered within who tried in vain to slow his progress as he made his way toward the back corridors and the dormitories. With determined steps, he continued marching while the mabari kept those who would try to slow him down at bay. And soon, he arrived at his destination. Without bothering to knock or otherwise make his presence known, The Warden grabbed the heavy latch to the door and let himself in. What he saw when he stepped into the small apartment was nearly more than even his experienced eyes could conceive.

Against the right wall rested a large bed adorned with elaborate carvings consisting of various scenes from The Chant of Light. The mattress and pillows were covered with the finest silken pillowcases and sheets that coin could purchase. Their deep burgundy color seemed to shimmer in the light of the dancing candles that lit the room. Lying beneath the blankets, however, was a sight that made The Warden's blood run cold. A young girl, no more than thirteen or fourteen years of age, was bundled up in the soft silks. She jumped up, startled by The Warden's sudden appearance, a look of shock crossing her innocent face. Beside the bed, a small pile of discarded clothing indicated that the girl was naked. Instantly, rage bubbled up inside The Warden and his face formed into a deep scowl.

"Where is Brother Cantarus?" he asked in an authoritative voice.

The young girl tried to hide herself beneath the thick blankets. "I...I don't know." she stammered back in reply.

"Don't lie to me. Tell me where he is right now."

The girl paused. She had the look of someone who knew she was in a great deal of trouble and was hoping that she could just vanish without a trace. "He's in the back." she said softly as she hung her head.

"What's going on in here?" Cantarus asked loudly as he walked into the room having been alerted by the noise. When he saw The Warden standing there, all the color left his skin and along with it, his bravado. "Oh, dear." he muttered.

The Warden pulled his blade from its sheath and pointed the razor sharp tip at the girl "Get dressed and leave this place." He commanded. "Now!"

As the girl snatched her things from the floor and hastily began to garb herself beneath the safety of the blanket, The Warden turned the point of his blade at the brother who stood there nervously gazing at it.

"You sick, twisted bastard!" The Warden yelled. "She's only a girl."

"I...I can explain. Please. Please be reasonable." Cantarus pleaded.

"Explain? How can you possibly explain this? You're a brother in the Chantry. How could you stoop so low as to abuse your position like this? How many other poor girls have you violated?"

"It's not what it looks like. We were merely...uhm...discussing matters. Besides, there is nothing that forbids a brother from entertaining a member of the fairer sex."

"She is a _girl_! She's not of age and you know it. How dare you hide behind your position so that you can play your twisted games, all while using the Chantry as a shield to protect yourself."

"You're not going to tell my parents about this, are you?" The girl asked after she had finished dressing herself.

"Just leave and never come back here." The Warden replied.

The girl cast her stare at the trembling brother who nodded his agreement with The Warden. Without saying anything else, she opened the door and walked through, leaving The Warden and Cantarus alone.

"Wh..what do you want from me?" the increasingly more skittish brother asked.

"I think you already know the answer to that. I know it was you who forged the letter that Bryland used to force Alistair from the throne. What I didn't know was why, until now that is. That piece of the puzzle has just been solved."

"You can't prove anything."

"Can't I? You were the one who had access to the letter the longest and no one else in Ferelden has the skill to create such a convincing forgery as you. Add to that the little secret you're so desperate to keep hidden and I'd say that makes for a pretty convincing argument."

Without warning, Cantarus bolted toward a small window and dove through it, shattering the glass into thousands of splintered shards that drizzled down onto the stone floor. Once outside, he hastily brushed himself off, his face and arms riddled with tiny cuts. He gave once last glance back through the window before darting off down the back alleyway behind the chantry.

The Warden sighed a bit as he looked over to his four-legged companion. "He moves pretty well for an old man." he said. "Go get him, boy."

With a quick flex of his thick muscles, the warhound bounded through the window after the escaping brother. The Warden heard the beast's loud barks echoing off the stone walls in the alleyway as he gave chase; his claws digging deep into the dirt as he flung his massive frame forward.

The Warden turned and calmly jogged out of the room, heading back to the entrance of the chantry. He was confident that Leo wouldn't have any trouble catching up to the fleeing man, so there was no real need to hurry. His suspicions proved to be correct as he rounded the corner into the back alley and made his way down the dark and filth-ridden path, where he found Cantarus pinned down in a pile of rubbish with Leo standing over him, growling viciously.

"Good boy." The Warden said as he gave the beast's head a good pat.

"Keep that monster away from me!" the frightened brother yelled out while he tried to drag himself further away from Leo's sharp teeth and claws only to find the brick walls prohibited him from crawling any further.

"Now..." The Warden calmly began, "are you going to tell me what it is I want to know or do I give you to my friend here?"

"I'll tell you! I'll tell you!" Cantarus screamed frantically. "Just keep that horrid creature away from me!"

"I'm listening."

"In my desk there's a black satchel. Inside it you'll find what you're looking for." the brother hastily blurted out.

"Is that where you hid the real letter?"

"Yes! Yes! It's in there, I assure you. Now please call off your beast!"

"You better be telling me the truth, Cantarus. Otherwise you'll find yourself made into a mabari's supper."

"I swear it! They wanted me to destroy it, but I didn't. I hid it away instead."

"Who wanted you to destroy it?" The Warden asked, already fairly sure of the answer.

"A man, I don't know who but he had a thick accent...Antivan maybe. He and his large companion said that if I didn't cooperate they'd tell everyone about my...secret. I'd be ruined."

"You're already ruined, but unless you want to make things worse for yourself you'll agree to tell your story in open court. Am I clear?"

"Yes! Please, you have to believe me!" Cantarus begged.

"You're coming with me to the palace. I'm not taking the risk of you trying to run off or get yourself killed."

"I can't do that! They'd kill me as soon as they saw me with you."

"Would you rather that I kill you now, myself?" The Warden threatened.

The old brother began whimpering as he held his head in his hands. "Oh, please. You can't make me do this. I don't want to die." he said.

"You should have thought about that before. It's too late now. You're the one who caused all this mess and you're going to help me clean it up." The Warden replied trying to make it clear that he was not accepting no for an answer. "Besides, I'll protect you. You won't have anything to worry about."

"Not until after you get what you want from me, at least." Cantarus agreed with a somber nod.

* * *

"Tell me, young Edalweiss, what of your newly found interest in Alistair?" Morrigan asked the small woman as she, Edalweiss, and Alistair walked the streets of Denerim. They arrived several hours before, after Morrigan had whisked the three of them to the capital city in her dragon form. The witch was mindful not to overtake her warden and decided it was probably best if they lingered some distance behind him. That way, he would be able to attend to his business without the distraction of her presence, and they, in return, could handle other matters that needed attending to, although the witch hadn't decided what exactly that might be yet. Still, she figured it was most likely best that they remain close by for when need of them did arise.

"What do you mean?" Edalweiss asked in response.

"Do not play coy with me." Morrigan replied, casting a sly grin at her diminutive companion. "It has been some time since you last took out your frustrations on Alistair's shin. There can be only one reason for such a change in attitude. 'Tis quite plain that you've become smitten with him."

"You can tell that? How?"

"'Tis no great feat for one to simply observe. I suspect something occurred while The Warden and I were away." Morrigan answered. "I am correct, however. Aren't I?"

"Maybe. I don't know yet."

"Such an odd reply. Either you have feelings for him or you do not. Which is it?"

Edalweiss folded her hands in front of her and her gaze dropped to the ground. "I _do_ like him quite a bit. But I don't know if he's the one for me or not. I'd like to think there might be something for us, I just don't know yet."

Morrigan chuckled a bit. "You poor girl. It appears that you've been bitten far worse than you realize." she said. "Tying your insides into knots over the matter is quite pointless. There is no denying the inevitable. You are strongly attracted to him and I am confident that attraction shall win out in the end."

"Is that what happened between you and Dwemer?"

"The circumstances between Dwemer and myself were...unique."

"That's because you were a cold-hearted shrew." Alistair chimed in from behind.

"Did anyone not tell you 'tis impolite to eavesdrop on the conversations of others?" Morrigan snipped.

"I was right here the entire time. It's not like I could help hearing." Alistair replied in defense.

"You could have respected our privacy and chosen not to listen. Although, I suspect that would require more civility than you are capable of." the witch quipped.

"Hey!" Alistair exclaimed, stung by the witch's words yet again.

"My, Alistair, your skill for witty retorts never ceases to amaze." Morrigan teased with a grin that seemed to indicate her satisfaction at winning yet another round of verbal sparring.

"I hate to break up the fun you two are having, but maybe we should decide on what we're going to do now that we're here." Edalweiss said, hoping to change the topic to a more constructive one. Even though she was fairly certain that the two were not entirely serious, Edalweiss still felt a level of discomfort with their banter. In her experience, playful name calling often turned into far worse things. "Do we even know what our next step will be?"

"Knowing The Warden as I do, he has most likely already paid a visit to the chantry and garnered the information he sought. If indeed the good brother is as guilty as he claimed, then his next course of action would surely be to take what he has learned to the palace." Morrigan replied.

"My home isn't far from the chantry. Maybe we should head there until we can figure out what we need to do next. Besides, it'll give me and Muiren a chance to check up on the place."

"I am sure your home is still intact. Check on it if that is your desire, however, I believe we would be much better served to head to the palace. 'Tis there that we shall find any resolutions to our current problems."

The others knew that Morrigan was right, of course. Whether they would be successful in their quest or not, whatever final showdown there would be was going to take place within the walls of the royal palace. The witch was aware that her warden was probably already on his way there to settle the score by himself, and although he was a formidable opponent, even he could hardly hope to deal with everything by himself. But that wouldn't stop him from trying and more than likely getting himself severely injured in the process, if he even happened to survive at all. That was why it was imperative that she be by her husband's side, whether he wished her to be or not.

"To the palace it is, then." Edalweiss acknowledged cheerfully.

"Lovely." Alistair added. "I haven't been there in a while, I'm interested to see what Anora's done with the place. Assuming she doesn't throw us into a cozy prison cell, that is."

The companions, having decided upon their direction, made their way toward the heart of the city, and the royal palace. For better or worse. The concern still remained as to exactly what they would do upon arriving, but Morrigan felt that question would answer itself in due time. Her main concern was to temper her warden's recklessness. Anything beyond that was a secondary concern to the witch. She fully intended to aid him, whether he wanted her help or not.

Strangely, though, even as they approached the tall palace walls, there was no sign of The Warden to be seen anywhere. Surely he had to be nearby, the witch thought. She began to grow worried that something had already happened to him and that they were too late to prevent it. Her eyes darted back and forth, taking in the faces of the people around them for any clues. As quickly as rumor and gossip was spread through the city, if something did happen to their precious Grey Warden, the citizens of Denerim would certainly give some sign. But she saw no indication whatsoever. The people looked as they always had as they went about their mundane lives and menial chores.

Then, from out of nowhere, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Morrigan swung around to see an angry face scowling back at her. It was her warden and with him was Brother Cantarus. He was obviously less than pleased to find his witch had followed him.

"Did you really think I couldn't tell you were here?" The Warden asked. "I felt your presence as soon as you entered the city."

"Damn that blasted connection of yours." the witch huffed.

"I specifically told you to stay behind, yet here you are. You deceived and mislead me. You know how much I hate to be lied to. I should have expected as much from you, but I didn't. Some naïve part of me was hoping that you'd listen just this once."

"Dwemer, allow me to explain."

"No, Morrigan. No excuses. No explanations. You lied to me. There's no way for you to justify that." The Warden replied sternly.

"If it's any consolation, Dwemer, I tried to tell her..." Alistair tried to explain before being cut off by The Warden's stone scold glare.

"Not now, Alistair. I don't want to hear it."

"Please, my love. I was merely concerned for your safety. Surely there is no crime in that."

"I never doubted your concern for me but you had bigger things to worry about. What of the demon and our unborn child?"

"I fully intended to return in time to complete the transfer. 'Twas not my intention to rouse your anger."

"But you have _roused my anger_. I don't enjoy being made a fool of, yet that's exactly what you did."

"You are everything to me. I cannot be without you." The witch pleaded openly, her golden orbs starting to well up with the tears she couldn't hold back.

"You should have trusted me."

"I am...sorry. Please, forgive me. Were our positions reversed, would you have done any differently than I?"

"Don't try to turn this around, Morrigan. You know full well that if I had come after you that you would be just as angry as I am. You would say that my help wasn't wanted or needed." The Warden countered; his voice still full of anger.

The witch knew that he was right, of course. While she loved the attention he showered her with, she hated to be treated as if she was weak and needed to be taken care of. If he had come after her in such a way, she would have been furious with him. "I shall accept whatever decision you make." she said softly. "But I ask that you not to turn me away. You may be angry with me as much as you feel the need to, and once our task is complete I shall do anything you ask to make amends. But I beg you, please, Dwemer, allow me to assist you. I cannot bear the thought of you being killed."

The Warden said nothing. His intense stare was a clear indication that his rage had not subsided any. She played him for a fool in order to get her way once again. Just as she always did. It was specifically because of his concern for her that he told her to stay behind. But as usual, she failed to heed him. Something deep inside of him snapped. Whatever it took, he was determined not to fall prey to her manipulations any more.

"When this is all over, we are going to have a long talk about this. You are going to start having to trust that I'm doing what's best for all of us." he said coldly. "But right now I don't need the distraction. Brother Cantarus here has an appointment to keep inside the palace."


	31. Chapter 31

**Part XXXI**

"Halt! Who goes there?" the palace guard shouted out to the approaching group.

"I've come to meet with the Queen. It's urgent." The Warden replied in an impatient tone.

"Not going to happen, my friend. My orders are that unless you have an invitation from either the Queen or Prince Marlori, nobody gets inside." the guard said as he lowered his lance, blocking the path through the gate. "Haven't you heard? There's going to be a wedding."

"I don't have time for this." The Warden shot back, becoming more agitated. "I need to see Anora."

"See? I told you this was going to happen." Alistair chimed in with the usual amount of pessimism. "We might as well forget it and try something else."

"If you want to give up, that's your choice. But I came to see Anora and I'm not leaving here until I do." The Warden said, never turning his steely gaze from the man blocking his path.

"What's all this, then?" another soldier asked. He appeared more seasoned than the gate guard and was obviously his superior. "What's all this commotion about?"

"This man says he needs to speak with Queen Anora immediately. I told him that I have my orders, but he's refusing to listen. Do you want me to have them arrested, Sergeant?" the guard asked the older man.

"Are you daft? That's The Grey Warden. If he wants to speak with the queen, then by all means, let him through." the sergeant responded.

The gate guard's face scrunched up in bewilderment. "Sir?" he asked, sounding confused.

The old man shook his head and patted the younger man's shoulder with his gloved hand. "If _you_ want to be the person who tries to deny the Hero of Ferelden, be my guest. But I wouldn't recommend it."

"Yes, sir." The guard acknowledged, snapping to attention and raising his lance, allowing The Warden and his party to pass.

"It's good to see you again, Your Majesty." the sergeant said with a bow of his head to Alistair as he passed. "It's about time you returned."

"In case you forgot, Sergeant, I'm not king anymore." Alistair replied.

"You'll always be king to me, sir. And I'm not the only one who thinks so. Most of the other lads feel the same way."

"That's good to know, Sergeant." Alistair noted while he and The Warden exchanged glances. "I have a feeling I'm going to need all the support I can get before too long."

The group walked up the long steps before the large wooden door to the interior of the castle to find the sentry on duty was far more accommodating than the first had been. He quickly grabbed the handle and pulled the door wide for all the enter, standing rigid and stiff as a statue as he did so. The sentry also gave a nod to Alistair as he passed into the palace. It was almost as if the palace guard had been awaiting Alistair's return, hoping that he would stop the madness that Anora was about to bring on Ferelden. It would make sense that the royal guard were aware of Anora and Marlori's plans. They might have stood quietly at their posts, but that didn't mean that their ears suddenly stopped working. The guards had been privy to very private conversations laden with sensitive information. Although they were forever bound by their oath of duty to never reveal that information, that did little in preventing them from hoping that the former king would find a way to return.

Alistair was viewed by these men as a man who was one of them; a man who knew the labors of hard work and dedication. He was someone who'd come from humble beginnings to etch a place for himself in Ferelden's history. He wasn't some aristocrat who held little patience for the common man. To the royal guard, Alistair would always be king and their loyalty to him was eternal and unshakable. Even Morrigan was forced to marvel in wonderment at their recognition of him as they all walked the stone palace corridors.

"Why, Alistair..."the witch said, "it would seem that you are not a complete waste, after all. These men, for whatever reason, seem to think rather highly of you. 'Tis both unexpected and rather disappointing."

"Disappointing because I'm not as worthless as you'd have me be?" Alistair asked with a smug and satisfied grin.

"Hardly." Morrigan chuckled. "'Tis disappointing that such dullards as these would be allowed the service of protecting the royal palace. After all, if they are loyal to you, how intelligent can they truly be?"

"Be nice, Morrigan. We don't have for you two to be bickering right now. We have more important matters to worry about." The Warden scolded.

"I do apologize, my love. Old habits are the hardest to break."

Unnoticed by the others, however, was Edalweiss' amazement at how the palace guards reacted when seeing Alistair. She'd never been around him when he was king and never witnessed for herself how others responded to him. To her, he was just plain old Alistair. But the experience of being in the palace and having the guards treat him as they did was quite a revelation to her. He was the king, or at least he used to be, and might even me so again, and he was interested in her of all people. She looked at him, and for the first time began to realize what the others were referring to when talking about his "potential". He could be so great, if only he'd get out of his own way, she thought. Perhaps he only needed a helping hand to show him the way. Perhaps it was she who would be the one to do it.

The Warden grabbed Cantarus by the scruff of the neck and pulled him to the fore of the group as they walked into the main hall. There, sitting on the large and ornate throne, sat Anora, looking as regal as ever with the large crown on her head twinkling in the torchlight. She was very comfortable playing the part of Queen, something she'd been waiting nearly her entire life to do.

Beside her stood a man in his early forties. He had streaks of gray running along his temples, interrupting what was otherwise a head full of thick, light brown hair. His clothes were made of the finest cloth money could buy and he looked every bit as regal as Anora, although the crown he wore on his head was smaller than hers. Even still, there could be little doubt that this man was Prince Marlori of Antiva.

"Warden, I must say this is a most unexpected surprise. What brings you to the palace on the eve of my wedding?" Anora asked pretending as though she didn't see Alistair or the others.

"I think you know why I'm here, Anora." he replied as he gave the brother a stout shove and pushed him forward, causing the old man to stumble and fall to his knees before the queen. "Brother Cantarus here has told me the most remarkable story. Perhaps you'd like him to share his tale with you."

"So, this is the Great Grey Warden I've been hearing so much about since I arrived in Ferelden. I must say, you're not as imposing as I thought you'd be." Marlori injected almost politely in his thick Antivan accent. "However, as much as I'd like to chat and get to know you better, I'm afraid we're a bit pressed for time. We do have a wedding to plan for, after all. I'm quite sure that anything your friend has to tell us can wait until afterward."

"He's not my friend. It's odd that you should call him that considering you've been spending a great deal more time with him than I have." The Warden retorted. "You know why I'm here which means you know what I've uncovered. Small wonder why you'd like to wait until after the ceremony, when I could do very little about it."

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about." the prince denied, still keeping his cordial demeanor.

The Warden, choosing not to be as polite, shot back, "like hell, you don't."

"I've never even seen this man before in my life."

"That may be true, but you know full well who he is, nonetheless. I'm sure your lackey Raythorne kept you informed of his plans every step of the way."

"We _are_ rather busy here, Warden, so if you don't mind, please enlighten me as to what you are referring to." Anora asked, starting to sound a bit nervous. Even though she hadn't participated in Raythorne's schemes, she was aware that something less than honest had taken place in order to put her on the throne. And if any man could unravel the mystery and pose a threat to her rule, it was the man standing before her now. Still, a small part of her was almost relieved by The Warden's presence. She was starting to feel as though she was in need of rescuing from her current predicament as much as anyone.

"Tell them." The Warden ordered, giving the brother another shove to accentuate his words and illustrate his seriousness.

"I'm afraid you were given the throne under false pretenses, my queen." Cantarus muttered. "The circumstances surrounding your sudden rise to power were, unfortunately, less than honorable."

Anora's eyes narrowed at the brother, as if she knew what he had to say would damn her rule, yet she found herself looking for that very escape. "Explain yourself." she said.

After letting out a long sigh, Cantarus proceeded to explain his role. "I was the one who forged a copy of the letter that King Alistair found in West Hill. At the behest of Prince Marlori, I was approached by Lord Raythorne and instructed to do so. If I chose not to cooperate, certain things which I wished to remain secret would have been brought to light."

"Whether you knew about it or not, everything that's happened was because of that damned letter." The Warden added.

"I see." Anora replied, thoughtfully. "But what proof do you have, other than your tales?"

"I have the proof right here." The Warden informed, pulling out the small leather pouch from his breast pocket and holding it out for Anora to see. "This is the _real_ letter that Alistair found when we were at West Hill. I'm sure the nobility would be very interested to see it."

"So my father wasn't a traitor. I knew it!" Alistair blurted out.

"No, Alistair. He wasn't. He was a great man who drove out the Orlesians, and that's exactly how he deserves to be remembered."

"Enough of this!" Marlori exclaimed, finally dropping his cool attitude. "Guards, seize them!"

With that command, men in shiny armor came sprinting in from all directions, as if they had been watching the entire time and just waiting for the order to act. These were not palace guards, however, as their armor was different and bore no seal of allegiance, whatsoever. Both The Warden and Morrigan quickly recognized the style of armor as being the same as those of the men who were holding Habren captive. Alistair was also familiar with the style, having seen it on the men who were following him around the Market District not long before he was forced to leave Denerim. Leading these men was another well-dressed man who sported long flowing hair that was tied back. He pointed and gave directions for the others to encircle The Warden and his party.

"Do you think that's wise?" Anora asked, looking over at Marlori who's wicked grin revealed his pleasure at seemingly thwarting The Warden and his allies again. "If the people find out The Warden has been imprisoned, they'll riot in the streets."

"Not to worry, my dear. We'll spread word that he and his friends are here for the wedding and are guests at the royal palace. After the ceremony, there will be precious little he can do to stop us." Marlori replied.

"Raythorne, get that damnable letter from him and destroy it." Marlori said to the other man, pointing his finger at the leather pouch in The Warden's hand.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Cantarus began pleading while the men circled around the group. "He said if I didn't cooperate he'd tell everyone."

"That's perfectly understandable." Raythorne replied calmly, turning to look at Marlori who gave a knowing nod in reply, before turning his focus back to the unsuspecting brother. "He didn't give you any other choice."

Unseen by the brother, Raythorne withdrew a long dagger from the sheath on his belt. With one quick motion, he forced the tip deep into Cantarus' gut, splashing crimson fluid on the pristine marble floor. Shock and surprise filled the poor brother's eyes as his life slid away and he collapsed to the floor, desperately trying to hang on to the life that was escaping him, though he was unsuccessful and death's icy grip soon enveloped him; fear and regret forever etched into his face.

"If you think you've won, you've got another think coming." The Warden said with confidence as his hand went to the handle of the blade by his side. "I don't care how many men you have, I'll cut them all down if I need to."

"Oh, I seriously doubt you will, Warden." Raythorne replied almost triumphantly as he gestured for The Warden to look behind him.

The Warden turned his head, and his heart leaped into his throat at what he saw. He noticed Morrigan's apologetic stare while a long, sharp blade was being held against her neck by one of Raythorne's men. Fury and rage bubbled up inside The Warden and he quickly swung back around to face Raythorne.

"You bastard!" he shouted. "I swear if you hurt her, there's not a force in heaven or hell that can keep me from you."

"Brave words, Warden." Raythorne said smoothly. "But I don't think you're that stupid. Hand over the letter and remove your weapons if you don't wish to see your beloved witch harmed. Did you think you could just walk in here and convince us to forgo everything I've worked so hard to achieve? If that is the case, then you'll find you're sadly mistaken."

With a loud and anger-filled grumble, The Warden tossed the letter onto the floor at Raythorne's feet. As he removed the sword from around his waist, he looked back at his witch and said, "Now you see why I wanted you to stay back at the cottage and let me handle this."

"I am sorry." Morrigan replied with much regret. "I was merely concerned for your safety."

From the back of the group, Edalweiss seemed to be giving a slight nod to someone who wasn't there. She caught one of the guards spying her and she quickly tried to look as innocent and nonchalant as she could.

The Warden, also having seen the small woman out of the corner of his eye, said to her "No, Eda. Tell Muiren not to do anything. I don't want anyone getting hurt."

"But..." Edalweiss muttered, perplexed that he wouldn't want her aid.

"You have to trust me. Everything is going to be fine."

"That's right, Warden." Raythorne agreed with a diabolical smile. "Everything will be fine, just not for you and your friends. What do you want me to do with them, You Highness?"

"Take them down to the holding cells. They can remain there until after the wedding. I'll decide what to do with them afterward." Marlori replied.

"As you wish, my prince." Raythorne acknowledged with a deep bow before gesturing to the guards to escort The Warden and his companions out of the main hall.

"If you have some sort of plan, now would be a good time to let the rest of us in on it." Alistair said nervously as he felt the sharp tip of a blade poking him in his side and urging him toward the large double doors, along with the others in the group.

"I'm working on it." The Warden replied as confidently as he could, trying to assure everyone that even though it might not seem so, he had the situation well in hand.

"Just a suggestion, but you may want to consider working faster."

Suddenly a spark shot through The Warden's brain. Maybe there was something he could do, after all. It might be a bit unorthodox and Alistair would probably be a bit slow in following his lead, but from what The Warden could tell, it was probably the only chance they had.

"Why is it that _I_ always have to do everything?" he shot back at Alistair, feigning an annoyed voice. "You're the one who got us into this mess, why can't you get us out?"

A look of genuine surprise washed across Alistair's face. He could hardly believe what he'd just heard. "I've already told you I was sorry. What else do you want me to say?"

Fearing that he may have overdone it a bit, The Warden still didn't see any other recourse but to continue his onslaught and hope that Alistair would catch on quickly. "You're always sorry for something, aren't you?" he bellowed. "Every time I turn around I'm always having to save your arse from something."

"Hey!" Alistair cried out. "That's not a very nice thing to say."

"'Tis, however, quite true, nonetheless." Morrigan added, casting a curious look at her warden and wondering what had gotten in to him. "Still, I am forced to wonder where this sudden resentment comes from."

The Warden turned his head back to his witch and gave her a look that said, _I'm trying to do something here. You of all people should be able to see that._

The witch returned with a glare of her own that was clear to him, _'Tis difficult to tell what __you are thinking in that head of yours. Regarding you, one can never be quite sure, although I do have my suspicions._

"Alistair, sometimes you are completely useless, do you know that?" The Warden stated in a condescending manner.

"Well, there isn't much I can do about that right now, is there?" Alistair responded in a huff, still not having any idea what his friend was trying to do.

Raythorne suddenly burst out into a loud fit of laughter. "You really are as moronic as advertised, aren't you?" he said to Alistair. "He's trying to goad you into a fight in the hopes that he can create a distraction."

The disappointed stare from his friend confirmed Raythorne's words. "Well, how was I supposed to know? It's not like I'm a mind reader." Alistair retorted.

"As obvious as it was, I think you're the only one here who didn't know." Raythorne countered, still chuckling in amusement. "How you were ever king for as long as you were, I'll never know."

Raythorne fixed his attention back on The Warden, saying, "save your tricks, Warden. They won't do you any good. I've manged to stay ahead of you every step of the way and I don't intend to stop now."

"The game isn't over yet, Raythorne." The Warden replied with a fierce scowl.

"Oh, I'm afraid it is, at least for you, anyway."

With guards positioned at both the front and back of the group, all pointing their sharp, deadly blades directly at the prisoners, the party was led down the dark corridors toward the stairs leading into the dungeon, and the holding cells below. Raythorne stood to the side of the column, directing his men, confident in his final victory. He had proven that he was superior to anything that Ferelden had to offer. For if even the Grey Warden was unable to prevent him for accomplishing his goals, who was there that could?

When they reached the door to the stairs that wound down into the depths of the palace, Raythorne ordered his men to stop. Curiously, there was no sentry posted at the door as was normally the case. He motioned for one of his soldiers to open the way while the rest waited silently.

As the door swung open, a lone man was revealed standing at the top of the stairs. His uniform gave clear indication that he was one of the palace guards. He gave a hearty wave and wore a broad smile on his face. "Hello." he said cheerfully.

"Why are you behind the door and not are your post?" Raythorne asked impatiently before waving the man off and saying, "never mind. Move aside, these prisoners are to be escorted to their cells."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, your lordship." the palace guard replied, still keeping his friendly demeanor.

"Fool!" Raythorne huffed. "Do you dare to defy me? Either move out of the way or be removed."

Still, the man did not move from his spot. "I don't think they would appreciate that so much." he replied instead.

"_They_?" Raythorne asked. "They who?"

The guard pointed behind Raythorne, further back down the corridor and to the left and right, down the adjoining hallways that intersected their position. Raythorne turned to see several groups of armed men closing in from every direction, all wearing glistening armor that bore the Theirin coat of arms on their chest and shields.

"Them." the guard said proudly.

"It's an ambush!" Raythorne exclaimed instantly realize what was happening.

With weapons drawn, the advancing men closed in, charging hard and fast. In a blur, three columns of men engaged the Antivans from three different sides. Steel was brought upon steel and the clanging of battle echoed down the stone corridors. Forced to defend themselves from their attackers, Raythorne's men quickly forgot about their captives and turned their attention to the palace guards in order to save themselves.

Leading the charge was the same older man who had greeted the party at the gate shortly before. He shouted out orders and rallied his troops as the Anitvan's began to fall one by one.

"What's going on here?" Alistair asked, confused.

"Isn't it obvious?" the sergeant asked in return. "We're rescuing you, Your Majesty."


	32. Chapter 32

**Part XXXII**

Raythorne's men were huddled around their prisoners while they fended off the attacking palace guards. Outnumbered, and rapidly being encircled, there was little doubt as to who the victor of the battle would be. Still, the Antivans fought on, even though their ranks where quickly thinning as the soldiers were being steadily cut down.

The two groups battled each other while The Warden and his companions waited for their chance to intervene. Without saying a single word, The Warden and Morrigan exchanged knowing glances with one another that told everything. The witch held her hands low while she charged them with mystic powers, readying her spell to attack. With a single command from The Warden, all of them would enter the fray together, almost as if they were one mighty warrior.

"Now!" The Warden shouted as his hands reached out and snatched the blade from one of the fallen Antivans.

Morrigan unleashed her magic and a burning white bolt of energy shot from her hands, arcing through the air and slamming into an unsuspecting soldier who's back was turned while he defended himself from one of the guards. The man's body shuddered and twitched as the energy coursed through him, before being slammed to the ground with smoke pouring from his seared body. The distinct pungent aroma of burned flesh started to fill the air.

Simultaneously, the others all struck at the Antivan closest to them, with The Warden and Alistair slicing through foes with their borrowed blades and Edalweiss drowning a poor man under a deluge so fierce, the man was stiffly thrown against the stone wall and held there by the pressure of the constant stream. She finally ceased her onslaught and allowed the man a desperate gasp of air, only to freeze him like a statue where he crouched with a sudden icy blast. And before the unfortunate soldier even had a chance to fully realize what had happened to him, Leo leaped towards him with his massive frame, shattering the soldier into a thousand tiny frozen pieces that scattered over the marble corridor.

Seeing that there was little hope of survival, let alone victory, Raythorne cautiously backed himself out of the battle before turning and bolting off down the corridor. He stumbled into a large table, knocking over a vase that smashed against the hard floor. The Warden's head snapped around to the source of the sound and saw Raythorne making his escape.

"Alistair!" he called out. "Raythorne is making a run for it. You and Eda go after him."

"What about you and Morrigan?" Alistar shouted back while his blade furiously swung from side to side.

"We've got to get that letter back from Marlori before he has a chance to destroy it." The Warden replied, slicing his blade through the belly of another foe as he spoke.

Alistair and Edalweiss broke off from the others and quickly hurried after Raythorne. He'd gotten a fairly good ways ahead of them, but Alistair had a pretty good idea of where Raythorne was heading.

It only made sense that Raythorne would head to the second floor, where many of the guest rooms were located. He probably hid some important and sensitive documents that he sought to retrieve before making a hasty exit from the castle. Alistair reasoned that Raythorne most likely had the damning evidence locked away in a safe hidden in his private chambers. That would make for a far more secure location than the study or the den where they could be out in the open for all to see.

When Alistair and Edalweiss turned the corner off the stop of the stairs, they spied Raythorne standing at the far end of the corridor. Oddly, he wasn't running anymore and he wore the most diabolical smile on his lips. Clearly he was up to something, although Alistair had no idea what.

Raythorne had a slight cackle in his voice when he called out to Alistair. It was almost like the gleeful voice one uses when harboring a very damaging secret that's just begging to be revealed. "You think you've won? Ha!" he said. "You know nothing! This is very far from being over with."

"What are you ranting on about?" Alistair returned. "In case you haven't noticed, you and your prince are finished in Ferelden. Once The Warden has the letter back in his hands, everyone will know what you've been up to."

"Then apparently I know more than you do."

"What do you mean?"

"I know that if I were you, I would give up this pointless chase, or you may find a great deal more than you bargained for." Raythorne replied before turning to run once more, cackling gleefully as he went.

The small woman beside Alistair scrunched her face up in confusion. "What do you suppose he means?" Edalweiss asked.

"Maker only knows. With that lunatic, there's no telling what he could be talking about. We best be careful." Alistair said as he cautiously began to creep forward, on edge that another swarm of Raythorne's men could come leaping out from hiding at any given moment.

"I'm not afraid." Edalweiss announced with confidence. "Me and Muiren can handle anything he throws at us. Isn't that right?" she said, nodding toward a patch of empty air.

The sound of a few approving clicks and whistles echoed off the stone walls, seeming to come from nowhere. Alistair felt a shiver run down his spine. He had almost forgotten about Muirghein. The fish's penchant for remaining invisible to everyone but Edalweiss often unnerved the former king. It was one of the many things that Muirghein did that Alistair found unsettling. Still, if he planned to be spending any significant amount of time around Edalweiss, and he did plan to, then it was probably best if he found a way to get past his discomfort.

Alistair tried to shrug off the distraction of focus. His eyes darted back and forth, inspecting any suspicious nook or cranny that may hold a soldier waiting to jump out and strike. With slow steps, he and Edalweiss crept down the corridor and around the bend, only to find that Raythorne had disappeared from view. He had obviously ducked into one of the bedchambers that lined the hallway on either side, but which one? Alistair stopped and looked around, carefully eying each door in turn.

His eyes first went to the large and ornately carved door at the end of the hall. But he quickly ruled that room out as a possibility. Behind that particular door lay the royal apartment, where he, himself, spent many nights. Now, however, those quarters belonged to Anora, even if only for a little while longer. Even though there were probably things beyond that door his eyes were never meant to see, chances are they would have little relevance on the situation at hand. Marlori and Raythorne probably only fed Anora as much information as they absolutely had to. Alistair moved on to the next set of doors.

While both doors on either side of the queen's chambers were intricate in their woodwork, they held neither the size nor the opulence. These rooms were reserved for important heads of state or other visiting dignitaries who might find themselves at the palace for an extended stay. Alistair figured that one of these rooms had to be Raythorne's quarters. The only question that remained was, which one?

If he guessed incorrectly, Raythorne could sneak back out behind them while he and Edalweiss were searching the wrong room. And while the other chamber was bound to be Marlori's, the chance of finding anything of value to their cause was slim. Most good leaders would never be caught with any concrete evidence among their belongings, knowing instead to distance themselves from the situation so that they can retain a plausible deniability just in case it was needed. Unfortunately, it was a skill Alistair never quite learned to master.

"This one!" Alistair blurted, pointing his blade at the door on the left.

"Are you certain?" Edalweiss asked.

"If you want, you can stay out here in the hall while I go check."

"No chance. Knowing you, you'll stumble into something and get yourself hurt. Dwemer would never forgive me if that happened. We go where you go." the small woman explained, finishing with another nod in the direction of nothing.

With his sword held at the ready, Alistair raised his foot up and kicked it against the heavy wooden door, smashing it open. Both he and Edalweiss raced through the opening and into the room. What they saw inside made the blood in Alistair's veins turn ice cold in an instant. Standing near the back of the room stood Raythorne, grinning more wickedly than ever. Beside him was another person, a woman who was bound and gagged. A single tear leaked from the woman's cold blue eye and trailed down her cheek before dripping down and splashing on the sharp blade that was pressed against her throat. The woman was no stranger to Alistair, in fact, he knew her as well as he knew anyone.

"Dyana!" he cried out.

* * *

With the fight in the lower hallway coming to a conclusion, The Warden and his witch broke away from the combat, intending to track down Marlori and retrieve the letter. With luck, the fight had been brief enough that Marlori and Anora hadn't been alerted yet. But luck was something that was in short supply as of late. When the pair reached the main hall they found that it was empty. Both Anora and Marlori were gone.

"What now?" Morrigan asked.

"I'm not sure." The Warden replied, rubbing his bearded chin while he thought. "They can't have gone far, though."

"That may be the case, however, which do we pursue, The Queen or the architect of this mad plot?"

"We go after Marlori. All that matters right now is getting that letter back. Without it, there's not really anything we can do. He knows that as much as I do."

"Then it would seem the prince's best course of action would be to flee the palace and lie low until he is able to garner reinforcements and retake the palace. 'Tis highly likely that he shall make for the most convenient exit." the witch reasoned.

"That's what I was thinking, too." The Warden agreed. "But that doesn't necessarily mean the closest exit, which from here would be the main door. I'm betting that he doesn't want to be seen by anyone."

"A logical conclusion, my love, though the palace does have many exits and entrances. Which do you suppose he wishes to make use of?"

"There's only one that I can think of." The Warden replied. "The door that leads out into the back alley."

"Then we've little time to waste before our quarry eludes us."

The pair, joined by the mabari, rushed toward the side entrance to the main hall which was located beside the throne. The Warden flung the door open and raced out into the corridor. The exit which The Warden spoke of was located near the back of the palace on the same level they were now on. If he was right, The Warden figured that Marlori would stop to gather as many guards around him as he could before proceeding. And while the prince would certainly make haste, chance are he wouldn't be running for the exit at full speed. Hopefully, that would slow him down long enough for The Warden and Morrigan to reach them before he was able to make his escape.

For once, however, luck seemed to be on The Warden's side. As he and his witch rounded the final turn before the door, they spied Marlori, who was surrounded by a compliment of his finest soldiers, about to reach the door. The pair called on every ounce of speed they could muster from their tired legs in order to catch the prince in time. The mabari sped ahead of them, leaping into the first soldier within range as soon as he was able and knocking the man to the hard floor.

Stunned, Marlori sharply turned his head around to see The Warden fast approaching. He was genuinely surprised to see that The Warden had caught up to him so quickly. He pointed his slender finger at his men and gestured for them to intervene on his behalf so that he might complete his hasty retreat, saying as he did, "You _are_ full of surprises, aren't you, Warden. It is a pity that we are not on the same side. I feel there is much we could accomplish together. Sadly, it is something which we will never find out."

"For once, we agree on something." The Warden returned as he deftly avoided one of the soldier's attacks, ducking beneath the deadly blade that whisked through the air and slicing the man across his legs with his own blade in return. The shocked soldier fell backward and collapsed onto the floor, unable to stand on his severed tendons. The Warden then finished the soldier's life by burying his sword deep into the man's exposed belly before calmly moving on to the next target.

Panic started to fill the prince when he saw that even his finest soldiers would fail to buy him the time he desperately needed. He watched in horror as The Warden's blade danced from one man to the next, cutting them down with an almost eerie ease. He was a man possessed and there was little anyone could do to prevent him from reaching his prey. Alone, The Warden would have been a formidable foe, but when teamed with the witch and the mabari, they were an unstoppable force. The Warden had been able to move the battlefield from the political arena to a more combative one, which played directly to his strengths. Now it was Marlori who was the fool and he realized he may have underestimated his foe at the cost of his own life.

There was only once chance left for the prince and he intended to make use of it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the leather pouch holding the letter and thrust it into the hands of one of his few remaining men. "Here, take this damnable thing!" he ordered. "Get as far away from here with it as you can!"

The soldier complied and hurried out the back of the palace with the letter in his hand. The Warden looked up to see the man just as he was charging out the door. "There goes your prize, Warden." Marlori taunted. "You must decide which you want more, me or the letter." And with those words, the prince ducked out the back door and into the alleyway beyond. This time, making sure to run away as fast as possible.

There wasn't any real choice, of course. "Damn!" The Warden grumbled loudly after the last of Marlori's men had been dispatched.

"At least we've no more need to wade through hordes of men. One lone soldier should hardly present an obstacle." Morrigan offered, trying to make the best of the situation.

"Except that one man can disappear into a crowd much faster than a group of soldiers escorting a prince can. He won't be easy to find out in the busy streets."

"Then, perhaps 'tis best if we begin our search and waste no more time here. The sooner we start, the less time he shall have in which to lose himself among the city's populace."

The couple ran out of the back of the palace and down the alley in the direction of the soldier. However, In the few precious seconds it had taken to finish with Marlori's men, the man was able to reach the end of the alley and lose himself inside the bustling mob that crowded the city streets. Locating him was not going to be an easy task. They did have one option, though, slim though it may have been.

The Warden looked down at the warhound who's stubby little tail wagged excitedly. The Warden had often wondered whether his oldest companion could feel the sense of danger that came with battle, or if it was all just part of some grand game to him. "Do you think you can find him, boy?" The Warden asked.

Leo gave a loud bark that seemed to indicate a positive response before he buried his nose against the dusty ground and began sniffing away. While it was true that Morrigan's sense of smell was keener than Leo's when the witch was in her bear form, she would be unable to discern one person's scent from the next, not having familiarized herself with the soldier's smell beforehand. Still, the mabari's nose was quite sensitive in its own right and more than adequate to the task at hand and he quickly scampered off in the direction the scent took him. On a crisp, cool day such as this, the man's odor would remain a clear beacon for Leo to follow for quite some time before finally fading.

The Warden and Morrigan followed behind Leo as he retraced the soldier's footsteps as clearly as if they were prints made in the newly fallen snow. Together, the trio wound their way through the busy streets of Denerim. From the look of it, the man started out on a straight path as he ran from the palace before swerving to and fro looking for a place to hide. Before long, they found themselves standing before a large warehouse located on one of the more secluded side streets.

It would have been a good spot to lie low, The Warden thought. He, himself, might have even picked such a place as this. But then again, he would have made sure that his pursuers didn't have a dog who was an experienced tracker with them. With confidence that their quest to put everything back into its proper place was nearing an end, The Warden drew his blade and kicked open the door.

The mabari brushed past his master as the scent beckoned him further inside. Piles of crates were stacked all around, some reaching nearly all the way to the ceiling some fifteen feet or so high. With Leo taking the lead, the three of them followed the trail that the soldier had unknowingly left behind him as he fled. The beast sniffed his way down one long row of stacked crates before rounding a turn and continuing down the next. All the while, The Warden was sure to be wary of their surroundings. If the soldier was hiding among the stored crates, he probably knew his pursuers were close by and may decide to take the initiative. It was best to be careful and avoid any possible ambush.

While his master might have been mindful of the risks, Leo was blissfully ignorant of such things while he mindlessly followed where his nose led. While the beast was trained to be able to think ahead and anticipate attacks and strategies during a heated battle, when it came to his nose, however, he often became oblivious to anything else around him. Most of the time it was of little consequence and he was usually relegated to the occasional bumping into of an object. This time, though, that single-mindedness lead him right into the heart of a trap. For, up above them on one of the many piles of stacked crates and unseen by the trio, the soldier waited for his chance, and when it came, he took it.

"Leo, look out!" The Warden yelled when he noticed the heavy wooden crates starting to topple over. But it was too late. The top of the entire stack came tumbling down from the among the high rafters, right onto the very spot that Leo stood. A loud _yelp_ was mixed in with the sound of crashing and splintering wood as the crates hit the floor and split open, spilling out their contents.

"_No!_" The Warden cried out, rushing in to save his oldest friend.

Without thinking, The Warden's hands dug furiously into the debris. Shards of splintered wood dug into his hands and fingers as he desperately tried to reach his friend who was trapped beneath a pile of rubble.

"_Leo!_" The Warden called out repeatedly, but there came no reply, only deafening silence.

Morrigan placed her hand gently on her warden's shoulder. It was she, more than anyone, who knew of the bond between The Warden and his mabari. She was well aware of the toll such a loss would reap. "He is gone, my love." she whispered softly, saddened not only by the tragic circumstance, but more so for the affect it would have on her warden.

"No! He's in there!" The Warden exclaimed, refusing to give up. "I've got to save him!"

"My love..."

"No, Morrigan! He needs me! I'm not giving up." he shot back while his hands continued to dig. "You go get the letter. I have to save him..." he was barely able to finish, his voice beginning to crack with emotion.

"As you wish." Morrigan calmly replied before jumping over the pile of broken boards and ruined wares.

The witch stared up toward the top of the stacks and saw a shadow darting behind the crates out of the corner of her eye. Raising her hands into the air, a glow began to envelope Morrigan and her slender and beautiful form was soon replaced by that of a monstrous and enormous spider. Spreading out her hair-covered legs, she quickly climbed her way up the stack and to the top. Once there, her eight black orbs caught sight of the soldier as he leaped from one row of crates to the next, nearly knocking the entire stack over in the process.

"Stay away from me, monster!" the terrified man shouted when he saw the witch.

Using her spider-like agility, Morrigan was easily able to leap the gap across the rows of stacked crates and land softly on the other side without causing the crates to so much as wobble. She bared her ominous fangs which dripped with poisonous venom as she closed in on the terrified soldier. The man screamed in terror when he saw that he had exhausted his escape routes and had nowhere else left to run. The witch succumb to her animal instincts and struck with all the fury of a rabid wild beast, burying her viscous fangs deep into the man's gut. As the poison began to take hold, the man's body became paralyzed and his body went limp beneath Morrigan's deadly caress. She twisted and turned the man beneath her heaving frame, wrapping him inside a coffin of spider silk. When she was finished, she set down the now dead carcass against crates and in a flash of light, resumed her human form.

When she saw the how completely she had wrapped the man up, she wondered if maybe she had let her instincts get the better of her a bit. Still, after what he had done to The Warden's precious mabari, she was sure her warden would be pleased at the completeness of her job. She took a small dagger from her belt and cut open a small slit in the silk and was able to retrieve the leather pouch from the dead man's hand.

After making her way back down the tall stack of crates, Morrigan returned to her warden to find him sitting against the floor with his back resting against one of the crates. He was huddled over Leo's lifeless form that he held on his lap as though it were a small child. The Warden pressed the beast against his own body and held it tightly against his chest while he rocked back and forth, sobbing heavily.

The sound of a wooden shard snapping under Morrigan's foot alerted him and his head popped up to see his witch standing there in front of him. "Can you save him?" he was barely able to ask.

Morrigan reached down to inspect the warhound and it wasn't long before her suspicions were confirmed. "There is nothing I can do for him, my love."

"Please, please, you have to try." he begged.

"I am sorry, Dwemer, but he is dead."

Another fit of sobbing overtook The Warden when he heard the witch's answer. He knew that Morrigan had powers he didn't understand; powers that she had used in the past to heal even his worst injuries. But he also knew that restoring the life to a fallen comrade was beyond even her. He buried his face against Leo's neck and wept for the loss of his oldest and dearest friend.


	33. Chapter 33

**Part XXXIII**

"So what's it going to be, _Your Majesty?_" Raythorne's slithery voice said, mocking Alistair with emphasis on the last two words. "Might I suggest you forget you were ever here and go back to whatever quaint hovel you pulled yourself from. Unless, of course, this woman means nothing to you, or at least not as much as your crown."

"You're mad!" Alistair shouted back. "You'd hurt an innocent woman just to keep me at bay?"

The Antivan chuckled slightly. "There are no such things as innocents, my dear boy. I would have expected someone in your position to know that."

"You can't hold on to her forever, you know."

"I don't need to. After the wedding ceremony is complete, there will be nothing you can do to change anything. Even if your precious letter does see the light of day again, by that time my prince will be firmly entrenched as your new king and that letter will become completely meaningless. You and I both know that a sovereign who can produce an heir stands on much more solid footing than one who cannot. Apparently, being a member of the illustrious Grey Wardens is not so rewarding as it would seem."

Alistair turned his attention from Raythorne and focused on Dyana. "It's going to be alright, my darling. I promise I'll get you out of this." he said to her, instinctively falling back into a tender tone out of habit.

"_My darling_?" Edalweiss repeated, stunned.

"No." Raythorne interjected with a harsh and disagreeable manner. "No you won't. Not unless you turn around and leave Denerim. For good this time."

"You think it's really that easy? You might get me to leave, but what about The Warden?" Alistair inquired. "Do you honestly think you can stop him?"

"I won't have to. I'm sure you'll have little trouble convincing your friend, The Warden, to stow his blade. If you know what's good for you." Raythorne answered, adding with a wicked grin, "or should I say, good for _her_." as he gestured to Dyana.

"Fine, you bastard!" Alistair fumed. "Let her go and I'll leave peacefully."

"I'm afraid that will not work for me. If I give you the girl, what's to keep you from changing your mind? No, I think it's better if I keep her here with me for a while longer. Once I know that you've left the city and the ceremony has had a chance to proceed as planned, only then will I set your precious flower free."

Alistair weakly nodded his agreement to the terms.

"Alistair, don't do this." Edalweiss pleaded. "You've come so close, don't give up now."

"I have to, Eda." Alistair said while he looked down to the small woman standing next to him. "I'd never be able to forgive myself in Dyana got hurt because of me."

"But there is another way." Edalweiss replied, turning her face back towards Raythorne.

"What other way can there possibly be? Don't you see? He's won."

Her small slender hand grasped his large rough one and held it tight with a stiff squeeze. "Do you trust me?" she asked.

"What does that have to do with anything? Now isn't the time for this, Eda..."

"Just answer the question: Do you trust me?" Edalweiss asked again.

"Yes...I mean...I suppose I do. I still don't understand."

"Then trust me when I tell you that everything will be alright."

"How can you possibly say..." Alistair started to say before being cut off by the small woman's finger being placed against his lips.

"Trust me." she reiterated.

"_Now Muiren_!" Edalweiss suddenly shouted out, and without warning, the fish appeared out of thin air, floating just beside Raythorne and his captive.

With a quick flip of his tail, Muirghein slapped the Antivan across the face, startling him and knocking him backward. The creature gleefully swished and zoomed tight circles in the air, chirping and whistling loudly, like he was enjoying some sort of game.

Raythorne stumbled back in surprise, nearly tripping over a chair that rested on the floor behind him. "What is _that_?" he asked.

"Dyana, quick!" Alistair shouted as he held out his arms toward her.

Without delay, Dyana hopped as fast as she could across the floor until she was close enough to dive into Alistair's waiting arms. He immediately pulled the gag from her mouth before pulling her tightly against him and holding her as close as he could.

"I'm so sorry." Dyana muttered against his chest. "It's all my fault."

"Don't be silly. You could hardly be to blame for any of this. You're safe now, and that's all that matters."

"Uhm...I hate to disturb you two, but in case you've forgotten, we still have a bad guy to catch." Edalweiss said, interrupting the two and trying to bring their attention back to Raythorne, who had recovered from his initial surprise.

Raythorne yelled out in rage, grabbing a vase from a table and flinging it at Muirghein, who casually dodged the object, offering a few curious chirps and clicks in response. Assuming that the angry man was no longer interested in the game, he slowly floated back to Edalweiss and Alistair.

"You've ruined everything!" Raythorne screamed while he lifted the chair near him off the floor and tossed it at Alistair, who jumped out of the way and watched the object smash against the hard stone floor and shatter into tiny fragments. Alistair looked up just in time to see Raythorne running out the door and down the hallway.

"Blast! He's getting away!" Alistair exclaimed.

"Me and Muiren will go after him. You take care of...Dyana." Edalweiss offered almost reluctantly, not wanting to look directly at the two reunited former lovers. Then, without saying another word, she darted off out the door in pursuit of the escaping Antivan lord.

Alistair took a small dagger from his waist and quickly slashed through Dyana's bonds, freeing her hands and legs. She flexed her hands a few times and rubbed her wrists, enjoying the new freedom. Alistair carefully looked her over from head to toe to make sure that she was uninjured and otherwise no worse for wear, asking "are you alright?" just to make sure.

"Alistair..." Dyana responded, while she slightly backed away from him. "I'm fine." she confirmed. "You need to go help your friend. I'll be alright here."

"But...I just wanted to..." he stammered before being interrupted by Dyana's hand taking his and squeezing it.

"Go. You and I can talk later." she said.

He looked down at their joined hands and familiar feelings once again coursed through him. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed her until this moment. He had tried not to think about her these past weeks they were apart, although that was a most difficult task. A part of him even felt unclean and soiled for not having been faithful to her memory. Alistair was forced to admit that he'd felt incomplete without her.

Their eyes meet briefly before he hastily looked down, saying softly "Right, then. Later."

With a sudden resolve to finish the task in front of him, Alistair squeezed the handle of his blade tightly in his palm. His eyes looked deeply into hers for one last time before he turned to charge out the door, hollering out "Eda, wait up!" as he went.

Edalweiss and Muiren were nearly halfway to the palace exit by the time Alistair was finally able to catch up with them. The fish, realizing that a most grand game was about the ensue, decided it was probably best for him to remain visible so as to be able to fully enjoy the experience. Edalweiss paused momentarily when she noticed Alistair behind her, giving him a chance to join her and Muirghein in their hunt for Raythorne.

As it turned out, though, the hunt wasn't nearly as hard as any of them assumed it would be. It appeared that years spent in political circles had left Raythorne with little opportunity for physical activity and his conditioning was turning out to be suspect at best. The trio caught up with him just as he was fleeing out the back entrance and into the same dark alleyway his master had taken just moments before.

"Stay away from me!" he yelled back when his eyes caught sight of his pursuers.

Seeing their prey within reach, former king, small woman, and fish all reinforced their resolve to see things to their final conclusion and doubled their efforts. Raythorne looked back over his shoulder again only to find his pursuers were rapidly gaining ground on him. He didn't stand much of a chance of making it out of the smelly alley, not to mention the safety of the ship still moored in Denerim's harbor.

Then, as luck would have it, a group of about sixteen of Raythorne's loyal soldiers came rounding the corner into the back alley. Apparently Marlori had been kind enough to send troops for him, after all. The Anitvan rejoiced upon seeing his salvation and ran headlong into their midsts, passing through their ranks, and emerged on the other side. He was finally able to stop long enough to catch his breath. His men all turned and looked back with curious expressions on their faces. Antivan lords were quite regal, after all. Seeing one racing down a seedy alleyway behind the palace was something of an unexpected sight.

"What are you fools waiting for?" Raythorne asked as he huffed and puffed, gasping for each breath of air. "Kill them!" he commanded, pointing back toward the trio that followed him.

All sixteen men readied their weapons and stormed deeper into the alley. They raised their blades into the air and screamed out as they rushed toward Alistair, Edalweiss and Muirghein. Seeing that the tables had suddenly been turned on them, the trio stopped dead in their tracks.

"That's not good." Alistair said.

"It's nothing we can't handle. Right, Muiren?" Edalwiess replied confidently. "I just need you to hold them back for a few moments."

"Hold them back? Have you hit your head on something? Do you see how many of them there are? I don't even think Dwemer could face that many by himself." Alistair returned, not sharing the same amount of bravado as his companion.

"Trust me." Edalweiss said again with an oddly cheery smile as she stepped over next to the high brick wall and sat down on with her back against it, pulling her knees up against her chest.

"What are you doing? This isn't exactly the best time to take a rest!" he exclaimed in disbelief.

"I only need you to keep them off of me for a short while. After that, you won't need to worry about them anymore."

"What do you have swimming around in that pretty little head of yours, I wonder?" Alistair asked, still a bit befuddled.

The small woman snickered a bit before responding. "You'll see." she said.

"I'll try to hold them back. But whatever you're planning, you better do it quickly. I won't be able to last very long." he responded as he turned to face the men charing at them at full speed.

One of the few good things about the alley was its narrow width. It made it so that only two of Raythorne's men were able to face against Alistair at a time. The others had to patiently wait their turn at the back of the line, even though those at the back tried their hardest to shove the entire group forward. That proved to add even another benefit for Alistair as each man he faced was being pressed on from the back and it didn't allow him to stabilize his feet beneath him. As it turned out, Alistair was far better able to hold his ground than he anticipated he would be.

At the same time that Alistair fought off the Antivan soldiers, Edalweiss closed herself off from the world around her. She focused all of her attention inward, as if she were tapping some inner power source and harnessing it for use. That energy began to come together and grow; slowly at first, but becoming ever larger with each passing second. When she had gathered enough, she started to project that energy outward, toward Muirghein, who started to glow from its effects.

At first, Alistair never noticed the large shadow that was forming behind him while it crept over his body and began to darken the entire alleyway. It was only when the eyes of the soldiers he was fighting began to grow round and large in their sockets that Alistair finally turned back to see a most fearsome sight. He could hardly believe what his eyes were telling him: Muirghein was growing.

The fish wasn't just growing a bit larger, he was morphing into something huge and absolutely monstrous. Normally the fish floated about in a form that was about three feet in length with his silky, silvery skin shimmering in the light. But he'd now grown to more than ten times that size. Gone were the playful black dots he called eyes and the silky smooth exterior. A true behemoth hovered in the air now, his eyes crested with high boney ridges and his hide covered in thick scales. Muirghein now resembled something far more like the sea monsters that darkened the deepest depths of the ocean than he did Edalweiss adorable and playful chaperone. The beast erupted into a loud, deafening roar that blasted all the men, including Alistair, with hot damp air. Alistair's jaw hung wide open and his hand was unable to retain its grip on the blade which fell against the stone, clattering as it did.

"Maker's breath." was all Alistair could mutter weakly.

From seemingly out of nowhere, a gigantic tail came crashing into the column of men, knocking them into the air and slamming them against either wall. His giant fins cracked skulls and broke many bones as he flailed them about in the cramped quarters the alley offered. With one of his huge fins, Muirghien brushed Alistair back behind him to the safety of the rear before he dove into the chaotic pile of soldiers once more while the air filled with screams of wounded and terrified men. The fully grown men were nothing more than toys to the demon-fish and he flipped them high into the air with ease. It was soon raining down armored men as the creature snatched up man after man and tossed them this way or that. Those he didn't fling about, he simply crushed beneath the weight of his enormous tail. In a matter a mere moments, the Antivans numbers had been reduced to only a few remaining men.

Confusion and terror reigned as the men left alive clamored to regain their senses and beat a hasty retreat from the nightmare that had beset them before they too fell victim to its might. Pushing against the air with his enormous fins, the gigantic beast sped after the group of scattering soldiers who had burst forth from the alley and into the main street. All activity immediately came to an abrupt halt when the citizenry caught sight of Muirghein. The silence didn't last long, however, when the people around broke into a full-fledged panic. They joined the soldiers in running off in every direction seeking safety from the terrible monster that had invaded their peaceful city.

Alistair looked down to see Eda still sitting with her back against the wall and head hung down. She seemed to be in some sort of trance. The only thing he could figure was that it was she who was channeling some sort of power that enabled the creepy fish-ghost's remarkable transformation. And if that was the case, it was taking its toll on the small woman. Alistair saw beads of sweat forming on Edalweiss' brow and a small trickle of blood starting to drip from her nose.

"Eda!" Alistair called out, but there was no response from the small woman.

Not fully understanding what was happening or how it would affect Edalweiss, Alistair dropped to his knees beside her and grabbed her with both his arms and gave her a good stiff shake. "Eda, wake up!" he yelled out again.

Edalweiss emitted a low groan as she slowly came back around. She was groggy like someone who is suddenly woken from a deep sleep. Alistair pulled her up from the ground and helped her to stand, though she was still a bit wobbly on her feet.

"Were we able to...did we do it?" she asked as she was still coming out of the daze.

"We did it. Well, you and Muiren, at least." Alistair replied while he tried to help the small woman keep her feet beneath her. "Say, where is that overgrown guppy, anyway?"

A few chirps and whistles from behind Alistair revealed the fish had returned, once more in his more familiar form and seemingly in a chipper mood. He swerved and darted through the air in random circles as if to offer his approval of the exciting events the three of them just experienced.

"What happened here?" a man's voice said as it came toward the trio.

Alistair turned quickly on his heels, ready for another fight. But to his surprise, his eyes caught sight of The Warden and his witch returning from a chase of their own. A broad smile grew across Alistair's face when he happily spied the leather pouch The Warden carried in his hand. The long nightmare was finally coming to an end. Only one task was left unfinished.

"Raythorne is making a break from the docks." Alistair replied to his friend. "Some of his men were trying to stop us from going after him."

Then suddenly, Alistair noticed one of them was missing. "Where's Leo?" he asked.

The Warden's face became somber and his eyes looked away. Even still it was plain to see the pain he tried to hide. "Oh, Dwemer. I'm so sorry." Alistair offered once he understood what had happened. "That's just terrible."

"We'll have time to mourn for Leo later, Alistair." The Warden replied, still trying to gather the strength to deal with the loss. "But right now, we still have a couple of Antivans to catch."

Morrigan noticed the blood dripping from Edalweiss' nose and her brows furrowed. "Has young Edalweiss been injured?" she asked.

"I'll be alright." Edalweiss was able to weakly reply. The toll Muirghein's transformation took on her was a great one and it would be some time before she was fully recovered.

"I shall remain here and tend to Eda while you two go fetch our quarry." Morrigan said.

"I'll be fine, really. You three go on ahead." the small woman offered.

The witch rolled her eyes, saying "Nonsense. In your weakened condition you could easily fall prey to some opportunistic thieves on the prowl for an easy target. I'll not have to deal with that as well."

Meanwhile, just across the city near the docks, Raythorne raced to the safety of the Antivan vessel that was still moored in the harbor. After all his hard work, the grand scheme had failed miserably and now he was running for his life. Once he was able to reach the ship, however, he could safely return to Antiva with his prince and chalk everything up to being a learning experience, albeit a very expensive one.

His feet pounded against the wooden planks of the long pier that stretched out into the sea. Hundreds of vessels lay hitched in long rows on either side of him as he huffed and puffed his way along, his lungs desperately gasping for each strained breath. Finally, when he was barely able to take another step, he arrived at the farthest end of the pier, and where he hoped to find his ship waiting for him. But much to his surprise, there was no vessel moored there. Shock streaked through him when his eyes were met with only an empty slip.

He quickly looked around to make sure that he was indeed at the proper spot. Then he saw it. Sailing away from the harbor was his ship, already under full cloth and moving further out into open waters.

"No, my prince!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Don't leave me!"

Raythorne could plainly see Prince Marlori standing on the deck of the ship, his arms folded and his gaze fixed forward out into the ocean. He gave no indication of turning the vessel around at all. Raythorne dropped to his knees, whimpering, when the harshest of all realities was made plain to him. When it came to protecting his prince's illustrious image, even Raythorne was expendable.

"_No_!" he screamed out at the ship that was growing ever smaller in the distance.

Two pairs of strong arms reached down and grabbed the Antivan on either side of him and harshly yanked him to his feet. Raythorne was too preoccupied with the sight of his escaping prince to ever notice that The Warden and Alistair had caught up to him. While Marlori would sail back to Antiva a free man, it would be Raythorne who bore the brunt of the responsibility for the failed plot. He would be fortunate if his head still remained on his shoulders when the sun set beyond the horizon.

The Warden and Alistair escorted Raythorne back to the palace, dragging him through the streets of Denerim as if he were nothing more than a common criminal. As he was led up the steps and into the palace, he saw what was left of his men. They had all been arrested as well and were huddled together in the courtyard and surrounded by a contingent of palace guards. Raythorne was dragged into the foyer and thrown down onto the hard stone floor at the feet of the Sergeant at Arms.

"Take this man and lock him in the tower." Alistair ordered. "He'll remain there until I can decide what I want to do with him."

"Right away..."the sergeant dutifully complied, adding with a deep bow, "Your Majesty."

"I'm not the king, anymore, Sergeant. I'm just an ordinary citizen who's serving his country."

"With all due respect, sir, that's not so. I have no doubt that the crown will be back on your head before tomorrow." The sergeant replied before he and two other guards took Raythorne away to his cell.

"He's right, you know." The Warden said. "Anora's rule was never valid and I doubt the lords will even have to gather for another landsmeet once they learn about the letter."

"The letter!" Alistair exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "I had almost forgotten about that bloody thing. Do you still have it?"

"I have it right here." The Warden replied, handing the small leather pouch over to his friend, saying "_Your Majesty_." as he did.

Alistair groaned loudly. "You know how much I hate it when you call me that. Knowing you, the entire reason you did all this was so that you could annoy me to no end."

The Warden smiled widely in return. "Whatever you say, Your Majesty."


	34. Chapter 34

**Part XXXIV**

Normal. That would be the one word to describe the atmosphere in the palace that evening. It was as if the palace servants and guards couldn't wait for a chance to call Alistair "Your Majesty" just to reinforce that feeling, even though he hadn't officially regained the title yet. Nobody much cared about that, however, since it was viewed as nothing more than an insignificant formality. Alistair would again be made King of Ferelden, of this there could be little doubt.

So without bothering to wait until the title became official, all of the palace residents greeted Alistair as if he already wore the crown upon his head; not that such behavior could really be blamed. After all, the country had been in a state of flux for the past several weeks and no one had felt that more than the servants and guards around the palace. They had been privy to some of the private conversations between Marlori and his minions and were well aware of what the prince planned to do. Everyone, from the lowliest stable boy to the Captain of the Guard, was forced to worry about their futures and the futures of everyone they knew. It was a great relief to all when word spread around the palace that Marlori had been thwarted and Raythorne was being held in chains. Once again, The Warden and his friends had defied the odds in order to save everything. The residents of the palace were given back their normalcy and it was a prize that each of them greatly relished.

Not even Anora would stand in the way of Alistair's re-coronation. In part, because she knew there was little she could do to demonstrate the validity of her reign now that the truth about Alistair's father had been revealed. But mostly it was because she realized that Alistair was a far better king than she'd given him credit for. Also, her recent experience had taught her that the Theirin line did indeed belong on Ferelden's throne. She was more than content to return to her estate outside the city walls, albeit without the constant armed guards who ensured she stayed there this time.

In one of his finer moments, Alistair accepted Anora's apology and decided that she had learned a valuable lesson. Her home would no longer be a prison to confine her within its borders. She would enjoy the same rights and freedoms as every citizen of Ferelden.

Anora, scarcely able to believe that she had been pardoned for her role with the Antivans, nearly lost her regal composure right then and there. For once there was true gratitude in her voice as she thanked Alistair for his grace and understanding. Still, she decided it was probably best to leave the palace as quickly as she could, before any of Alistair's friends could convince him to change his mind.

It wasn't long after Anora left that Alistair found himself in the palace study, standing in front of the large roaring fireplace and having a conversation with Dyana he never thought he'd have. It turned out that she'd missed him as much as he missed her. It was a surprising and comforting realization to Alistair to know that Dyana still held feelings for him, as he had for her.

For hours they talked. It was well into the evening before either of them noticed how late it was getting. Apparently, there was much more to discuss than either of them knew. Both were so wrapped up in their conversation that neither of them noticed the small woman who was watching them from just outside the door.

Edalweiss stood in the corridor silently and watched the two former lovers while they spoke. Muirghein had found the palace kitchen and was busy delighting himself with every type of sweet and savory morsel he could fit in his face, leaving Edalweiss a rare moment alone. She felt guilty and ashamed from spying on the private words of others, but the gnawing sensation she felt in her gut wouldn't allow her to leave. She stayed rooted to her spot and listened as hard as she could for any clues that might reveal Alistair's intentions, all the while fearing the absolute worst.

It wasn't until Dyana suddenly popped back into Alistair's life that Edalweiss was aware of how strongly she felt about him. Maybe she had always felt that way and just never noticed because she figured she had plenty of time to sort the emotions out before proceeding. That turned out not to be the case, though. There hadn't been nearly as much time as she thought there was and now it might be too late. If she'd only made up her mind earlier, then none of that would matter. Alistair would have been hers and he would be politely telling Dyana "thanks, but no thanks."

But she hadn't acted on any of the feelings she was having, and now it may be too late. Edalweiss cursed herself for her stupidity while she tried to eavesdrop on Alistair and Dyana. Not that she was having much success. Their hushed tone and the roar of the fire combined to drown out nearly every word they said to each other. All the small woman could do was stand there and try to guess at what they were saying. All while she worried herself sick over it.

Finally, Dyana and Alistair brought their lengthy conversation to a close. Edalweiss' stomach dropped to her knees when she saw Dyana give Alistair a tender embrace, which was followed by an equally tender kiss on the cheek. The small woman quickly ran several strategies through her head for handling the inevitable dialogue with Alistair that was certainly coming. She debated on whether to play coy or indifferent with him. If she couldn't have Alistair, at least she could keep her pride, although a voice inside her screamed at such a ridiculous notion. The voice insisted she did whatever it took to land Alistair's affections, even resorting to all out begging if needed.

Hearing Dyana's footsteps coming at her, Edalweiss pressed herself up against the bricks, trying her best to remain hidden from view. She let out a long sigh of relief as Dyana walked past her without taking notice and continued down the hallway. The small woman kept her attention fixed on Dyana until she rounded the corner and was no longer visible.

"Were you out here the entire time?" a man's voice asked.

Edalweiss snapped her head back around to see that Alistair had also come out of the study and had seen her spying on Dyana. The small woman's mind raced to quickly come up with a suitable excuse to explain her presence.

"Uhm...no." she lied. "I was just walking by. I didn't even know you were here."

"Eda, I may not be the smartest man alive, but I know when someone isn't telling me the truth." Alistair replied. "What reason could you possibly have for listening in on our conversation?"

"Honestly, I could care less about what you and _she_ were talking about." the small woman shot back, showing a clear discomfort about Dyana, or perhaps disgust.

"I think I understand now." Alistair said, giving a knowing nod. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

"Don't be ridiculous. What would I have to be jealous about? It isn't like we've ever done anything, not that I would have cared about it even if we had."

"It's not what you think. It isn't like that at all."

"You don't have to water things down for my sake. I'm a big girl. I can take it. I mean, you're the king, it's not like we would have had much of a real chance together, anyway."

"Eda, will you stop and listen to me for a minute?" Alistair said, grabbing the small woman's shoulders in order to better gain her complete attention. "Yes, Dyana and I had a long talk about things, but we've decided we're just going to remain friends."

Edalweiss scrunched up her face in confusion. "Friends?" she asked. "But I saw her...I mean I don't understand."

"Being apart gave us both time to think about some things and we realized that maybe we didn't end on the best of terms." Alistair explained. "I mean, sure, I still care about her and I probably always will, but what we had is over. It's time for both of us to move on. She plans to go back and see her family for a while. And I've been lucky enough to meet someone I'd like to get to know much better."

"Oh." Edalweiss replied softly. "I didn't know. I thought that maybe there was something...you know...between _us. _But if there's someone you've met, I won't stand in the way."

"What?" Alistair shot back. "No, you silly girl. I was talking about _you_. You're the person I want to get to know better. That is, if you'll have me. I know we haven't really had the opportunity to talk about it ever since...well, you know. But I was thinking that we could..."

Alistair was cut short by Edalweiss who gleefully leaped into his arms and warmly pressed her lips to his in a deep and satisfying kiss. After the initial shock of her actions, Alistair's arms reached around the small woman to bring her closer to him as he returned her kiss with one of his own.

Unseen by the two entwined lovebirds, The Warden and Morrigan approached them from behind. They were on their way to see Alistair one final time before they made their way back to Highever. While Alistair's rule had been saved and the kingdom restored, The Warden and his witch still had matters of their own which needed attending to.

"'Tis precisely the outcome I had expected." Morrigan said, causing the couple to immediately cease their kissing as they both quickly looked up, trying to seem as innocent as possible.

"It's about time, too." The Warden added, smiling at his witch. "If Alistair waited any longer, Fergus would have swooped in and stolen her away."

"Swooping is bad." Alistair replied.

Edalweiss cocked her head to the side. "Fergus?" she asked, chuckling a bit. "You mean your brother? Where would you get an idea like that? He probably doesn't even know who I am."

"I'm fairly certain he knows who you are." The Warden replied.

"What makes you say that?" the small woman questioned in return.

"Call it a hunch."

"Your brother is a teyrn, though. He's a very important and very busy man. I seriously doubt he even noticed me."

"Hey!" Alistair exclaimed. "What about me? I _am_ the king, after all. Or least I will be...again."

Edalweiss snickered a bit before responding playfully. "Yes, but this palace is so _small_ compared to the castle at Highever. Dwemer was right...his _is_ bigger."

The Warden, Morrigan, and Edalweiss all let out a good laugh. It was the first they'd been able to share in quite some time and it felt good to let it out.

"I suppose I walked right into that one." Alistair said, sighing.

"You always seem to." The Warden agreed. "Anyway, we just wanted to come by and let you know that we'll be heading out soon. We have things in Highever that we need to get back to. They're sort of important."

"You're leaving so soon? But the palace servants wanted to throw a banquet. Surely you can stay for that, at least."

"A banquet? I guess they really must have missed having you around. Who would have guessed?"

"Who, indeed." Morrigan injected. "I'm afraid, however, that we must respectfully decline your offer. Seth surely grows impatient for his parent's return. Let us also not forget the small matter of the demoness who still carries my unborn child."

"I'm certain that a few hours won't make much of a difference." Alistair said, trying to convince his friend to stay for just a little while longer. "Besides, without you, none of this would have even been possible. A celebration just wouldn't be the same without you."

"Well, since you put it like that. I suppose we can stay for just a little while longer." The Warden replied, causing his witch to groan while she placed her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. "What are they serving?"

"From what I'm told, all manner of foods will be prepared. Roast suckling pig, pheasant, and even an array of the freshest seafood." Alistair answered, only too happy to recite the menu now that his friend would be attending.

"Seafood? Will there be shrimp?" The Warden asked.

"Every type of shrimp you can think of. I can have the chefs prepare whatever you like."

"Absolutely not." Morrigan objected. "No shrimp. You are aware that they give you a most foul case of the winds. I'll not be made to endure that yet again."

"Just go ahead and tell everyone about that, why don't you?" The Warden complained.

"Trust me, my love. They shall appreciate the warning."

"You make it sound like it's some great disaster or something. It's hardly that bad."

"Not that bad, is it?" the witch rebuffed. "Last time it took me more than a week to rid our home of that vile stench."

And so it was that a banquet was held that night in the dining hall of the palace. The people of the palace rejoiced at having been reunited with their beloved king. Once more, Ferelden was brought to the brink of total chaos only to have The Warden and his friends jerk it back from the abyss and set the kingdom back on solid ground. It was becoming something of an unfortunate habit that no one really wanted to see continue. However, as long as Ferelden had her hero, the people knew they would always be safe and protected.

The revelry lasted well into the early morning hours and was filled with much eating, drinking, singing, and dancing. Even the witch was forced to concede that it was quite an enjoyable experience, as long as the party goers kept their distance from her.

When the sun rose the next morning, The Warden and his witch bid their friends farewell and departed for their home, and after soaring through the skies over Ferelden, they returned to their cottage to find everything was exactly as they had left it, peacefully nestled among the tall grasses on a remote portion of the Cousland estate.

With a heavy heart, The Warden removed the bundle Morrigan carried on her back. Leo's body lay wrapped in fine palace linens across the witch's back as she flew them home in her dragon form. The Warden fought hard against the strong sorrow that threatened to overtake him again as he laid his oldest friend within a hole in the cold ground. He erected a permanent memorial to the beast made of wood and stone to forever honor his beloved mabari. Upon a stone tablet, words were carved so that all who saw the memorial would know of Leo's courage and loyalty. _Here lies a great warrior, a loyal friend, and a gentle caretaker. We were fortunate to have you in our lives and will be poorer for it in your absence. Rest well my friend_, the words read. Morrigan, using a spell she derived from the Tome of Munne, placed an eternal flame on the memorial which shone in rain or shine, in darkness or light; for as much as she tried to hide it, the witch was greatly saddened by the passing of the hound as well.

As expected, the witch and her warden found the demoness impatiently awaiting their return. The creature told them that had they returned one day later, they would have found the succubus had left, having grown weary of waiting. Neither Morrigan nor The Warden actually believed the threat, though, as they were both convinced that the demon desired to be rid of the child as much as Morrigan wished to have it back. As per their arrangement, demon and witch once more participated in the ritual and the unborn child was transferred back to its mother, seemingly bearing no ill effects from its ordeal. Regardless, Morrigan swore an oath to protect the life in her womb with much greater care and caution. After her obligations had been fulfilled, the demon stepped through a portal in the fabric of time and space and disappeared for parts unknown. For the first time in many weeks, The Warden and his family had the cottage all to themselves and it was peaceful.

The months passed slowly, as they often do, and Morrigan's belly grew swollen with the child she carried. Alistair's reign as king was unchallenged by any lord or lady and Ferelden was becoming more and more stable and prosperous under his rule. It was an odd feeling that many of the people had a hard time adjusting to, although it was still welcomed, nonetheless. As time went on, The Warden even began to entertain thoughts of spending a quiet future with his witch and their children. It was something he always desired yet was unwilling to ponder on for fear of another calamity that would require his services. But now, at long last, it seemed as if those dreams might finally be realized.

On a crisp evening, The Warden found himself standing over Leo's grave, his thoughts deep in the past while he remembered some of the cherished memories of his fallen friend. The sound of footsteps behind him caused his head to turn toward the direction of the sound. He saw his witch, who had a large shawl wrapped around her for warmth, approaching him.

"'Tis growing late, my love." she said. "Your son would like to see his father before he goes down for the night."

"I'll be right there." he replied, reaching out his arm to wrap it around Morrigan when she came close enough. "I was just saying goodnight to Leo."

"You miss him greatly." the witch noted as she nuzzled against her husband's warmth. "In truth, I am forced to admit that I do as well. While we may one day acquire another mabari, I doubt 'twill have Leo's...personality. He was most certainly a singular creature in that regard."

Morrigan extended her arm around her warden and pulled herself tightly against him, saying, "But enough of such talk. Leo will forever live in our memories and we have our entire lives ahead of us. Soon, I shall bear you another son and we shall both be entirely too busy to think of little else. For the first time I look upon the future and I am unafraid of what I see. I find myself entertaining thoughts of the many years we have ahead and see nothing but contentment."

The Warden chuckled slightly as he nuzzled against his witch. "That's what you think." he said. "Give it enough time and I bet you get tired of having me around."

"Ass." Morrigan quipped. "And you say 'tis I who avoid serious discussions."

"You know I wasn't being serious." he replied softly while his lips placed gentle kisses against her cheek and behind her ears. "I can't imagine any place I'd rather be than here with you. I can't help myself, I love you more today than I ever did before, but not as much as I will tomorrow."

"And I, you." the witch agreed. "Whatever comes, we shall face the future together."

The End.

**Epilogue**

The demon stepped out of the portal and found herself once more in familiar surroundings. Her foot touched down against a dirt floor inside the center of a small wooden shack located in a remote and uninhabited part of Ferelden. Near the edge of the room sat a man at a table. He jumped back in surprise at the demon's entrance. His shock didn't last long, though, as he quickly stood from his spot and approached the demoness, as if he'd been expecting her arrival.

"Finally you're back." the man said with relief in his voice. "I was afraid you wouldn't make it."

"There were some complications, but on the whole, everything went as planned." the demon replied, casting the man a sinister grin.

"Does that mean you were able to get it?" he asked sounding hopeful.

"I was." the demon responded as she rubbed her belly, which still showed a slight bulge. "The transfer went exactly as anticipated and I was able to copy The Warden and his witch's child. After making a few suitable alterations, the baby now rests comfortably inside me. They will know the joy of their child while having no clue that I copied its essence for our own use."

"That wonderful!" the man exclaimed. "When you first told me about your plan, I didn't think it was really possible. But now that you've actually done it...I mean...I can't believe we're going to be parents."

"For countless generations I watched as mortals held their children in their arms, always wondering about the true nature of the experience. Now I will be able to live that experience for myself." the demon mused aloud. "Our child will grow up to be a force of power the likes of which this land has never seen before. Kings and queens will bow before his unquestioned might."

"Aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves? Neither one of us has the slightest idea how to care for a baby. Don't you think it would be wise if we figured out how to do that first?"

The demon let out a sigh. "As usual, you're right." she said. "I still struggle with menial concepts such as parenthood. I'm fortunate that I have you to help me with such matters."

"That's what I'm here for." The man replied as he threw his arms around the demon and pulled her to him. "I missed you while you were away."

"I missed you as well." the demoness returned, accepting the man's affection. "I'm sorry I was away for so long. If I could have returned sooner, I would have."

"You're back now. That's all that matters."

_And so the final story of The Warden and his Morrigan comes to a close. After years of hardship and struggle, they look to a brighter future; a future they will spend together. Tales of their undying love will be told for generations as The Warden will be revered as no hero was before or since._


End file.
